The Shadows Grow Longer
by Dodendans
Summary: REPOST. Alternate Universe. He'd waited for her in the darkness. The time for revenge was now. Arthas/Jaina, hints of Thrall/Jaina. Starts during the middle of WotLK.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Everything in this story belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. There will be spoilers for _Arthas: Rise of the Lich King_ in this fanfic.

I removed this story from this site because I didn't like the direction it had taken and, frankly, I don't have a lot of time to write anymore. But I've been contacted by several people who would like it back up… and I don't see any reason why I shouldn't repost what I still have from the original story. The later chapters have been lost (unless someone out there saved them) which is probably a good thing as I wasn't happy with them. Some elements will be the same and some will be completely different.

Also, please be warned that this is an Alternate Universe story, and as such many of the events that take place here will NOT be canon. **Fair warning.** Not everyone will be completely in character, etc. etc. It won't keep diehard lore fans happy, that's for sure.

As for everyone else, I hope you enjoy the story.

"_No one can seem to deny you anything," she murmured, repeating the words she had said to him the day of their first kiss, "least of all me."_

_He clutched her to him then, a sudden cold shivering over him, though he had no idea why. "Don't deny me, Jaina. Don't ever deny me. Please."_

_She looked up at him, eyes glittering in the cool moonlight. "I never would, Arthas. Never."_

- Arthas: Rise of the Lich King

**The Shadows Grow Longer**

Chapter One

For several hours she trekked up the high cliffs southwest of Valgarde. A crisp wind ruffled her hair and countered the sweat on her forehead as cool air filled her lungs. Across Daggercap Bay ruins of an ancient settlement peeked through the mist and coniferous trees, leering dragon-like heads attached to roofs of buildings revealing themselves the higher she went. Directly below, smoke from campfires billowed into the air in tiny gray clouds. Occasionally a barge docked at the port close to the fires. Fjord rock falcons rode the breeze over the open water, little brown specks in the air careening from cliff to cliff.

Winded, she stopped a moment and admired the view. _Such beautiful birds_, she mused, noticing the falcons. _A nice change from the black crows and sea gulls that invade Theramore anyway._

Upon reaching the top of the cliffs she was delighted to be greeted by a herd of shoveltusks. Rather strange creatures but oddly enduring. As curious about her as she was them, the animals maintained a respectable distance but did not seem overly bothered by her presence. The calves bucked and played, providing endless entertainment as they ran around their mothers. The only thing that irritated her was the shape of New Agamand and its menacing towers looming to the northwest. But never mind. She was not here to guess what Sylvanas and her Royal Apothecary Society were up to. Not today.

She found a shady hollow overlooking the cliffs and parked there, stretching out in the grass, not caring as her garments stained green. Her hands settled behind her head. The sun bathed her in a warm light and she sighed. How long had it been since she'd had a moment to herself in a place like this? Not since she'd gone on picnics with Arthas years ago, back when Lordaeron was whole and the world an easier place to live in.

With a sigh, she decided that Rhonin had been right. She'd needed to get away. _Rhonin_. A frown crossed her mouth, memories of the scene in Violet Citadel a few days prior invading her peaceful reverie.

_"Prisoner? Ha! With its bindings shattered, its influence unchecked, it's gonna come after us, and we're gonna be the prisoners!"_

"…_we stand to lose everything if we do not stop fighting and work together!"_

"_A true Warchief would never partner with cowards!"_

"_I'm done with your Horde. May this 'death god' take you all."_

Another sigh escaped her, this time one of exasperation. What could she have done to change the outcome of that ill-fated meeting? Could she have kept Thrall from walking into the Violet Citadel so early? Held him and Garrosh at bay with conversation? Or perhaps she could have found a way to gently tell Varian that Thrall was about to enter instead of porting in and out like a madwoman. Anything would have been better than what had happened, with Wrynn teleporting out of the room in a huff and Hellscream insulting Thrall.

She'd failed. Surely she could have done _something _differently.

Afterwards, Rhonin had seen right through her as she stood stoically on the balcony. "You need to stop taking responsibility for things you have no control over," he'd confronted her. "I know you well enough now, Jaina. I can tell when you take a burden onto your shoulders that no one should be lifting. Don't do it now. There was nothing you could have done, no words you could have said that would have convinced Wrynn to join forces with the Horde. There was no action you could have taken to keep Garrosh Hellscream from attacking. Blaming yourself for things you cannot control will help no one, least of all you."

"I know," she replied, shifting uncomfortably. "It's a bad habit of mine." _Has been for years. Ever since Stratholme. But really, I could have -_

"Don't do it now," he repeated. One of his large hands gripped her shoulder. "Not over this."

"I won't." A small smile crossed her lips. _Liar._

Still, the man had insisted that she take some time for herself, and that was precisely what she was doing. Only to appease him, of course… until she actually found herself alone under the light blue sky of the Howling Fjord and realized he was right. She had been pushing herself too hard ever since the Battle for Undercity a few weeks previous.

At least she'd done something right during _that_ particular battle.

_If only the Alliance and Horde would all put aside their personal differences for a short time, just long enough to rid Northrend of its evils…_

Evils. First the Lich King and now Yogg-Saron. Really, how could the situation get any worse? Who presented the greatest threat at this point? Numerous adventurers from both the Horde and the Alliance now focused their attention towards the situation in Ulduar, the dark presence there too dire to ignore. But what about the Lich King? What was _he_ doing in regards to the situation? If Yogg-Saron posed a threat, wouldn't the Scourge be attacking Ulduar instead of continuing to infest the lands of Northrend, attacking the outposts and infecting the inhabitants? Was the Lich King content to sit back and let his enemies take care of the Old God? Or did he in fact have some sort of hold over Yogg-Saron?

Jaina Proudmoore didn't know the answer to this, and it frustrated her to no end. Would they regret focusing so many military forces on Ulduar instead of Icecrown? Or was Ulduar truly the bigger menace at the moment? She chose to believe it was.

Still, no matter whom the biggest threat at the time, nothing would ever truly get done in this land of ice and snow unless the Alliance combined forces with the Horde. She genuinely liked Varian Wrynn, understood his hatred and pain, but the man needed to let go of his personal grudges and look at the bigger picture at least for a little while. Thrall, she could tell, was equally embarrassed by the actions of Garrosh Hellscream.

_Thank the Light for Thrall; diplomatic, even-headed Thrall. _She wished the Warchief could have come along with her, but he'd departed for Orgrimmar after the meeting and she hadn't had a chance to speak with him since. _Not as if he could have come anyway,_ she knew, and she missed their secret meetings in The Barrens. She wished for all of this to be over so things could go back to the way they were, with no Lich King, no Yogg-Saron-

_But if it isn't the Lich King or Yogg-Saron, it would be someone or something else. The world will never be safe._

Her jaw ached. Jaina realized she'd been grinding her teeth and forced herself to relax. _Not today_, she sternly reminded herself. _Today is for you. Take the opportunity since the Light only knows when or if you'll get another one._ And she pulled a book that focused on counter-spells from her pack. The breeze caressed her hair and she lay back in the shade of a great pine tree, allowing herself to forget time as she lost herself in her book, just as she used to do when she was but an apprentice in Dalaran who thought only of studies and magic, never of ruling a settlement or of Old Gods and Scourge.

Rain drops woke her. Jaina didn't remember falling asleep, so engrossed had she been in her book; she'd simply taken a break, enjoying the feel of the sun on her skin, and must have dozed off. Now several hours she could have spent reading were wasted. _Ugh._ She disgusted herself sometimes.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. The shoveltusk herd had gone.

A cold tremor shook her. Groggy and moody, she pulled herself out of the hollow and squinted at the dark sky before packing her book away and heading towards the cliffs, the situation at Ulduar weighing heavily on her mind once more. What were they going to do? If no alliances would be made, they were all doomed, be it by the hand of the Lich King or of Yogg-Saron.

The sorceress made it a little less than halfway down when the heavy rain started. Mud coated the already treacherous trail, and she wasn't going to take the chance of falling or breaking a leg so she focused her energy, allowing a white nimbus of mystical power to surround her body, concentrated on the location she wanted to materialize at, and teleported herself off of the mountainside.

Her sudden appearance in the middle of the crowded bar area at the Valgarde inn startled several drinking adventurers. A drunk gnome gaped at her from on top of a table, and two human men watched for a moment, intrigued by the woman who had appeared from thin air, before turning their eyes downward and continuing their conversation.

The bartender raised an eyebrow in her direction but didn't bother to stop filling a glass with beer. Several others in the dining area studied her for a good while before they returned to their bowls of soup.

Slightly embarrassed, Jaina nodded politely at them all and wrapped her wet cloak tightly around herself. She was glad for the anonymity; only Rhonin and Magistrate Randavarr knew she was visiting, and it was a great relief to be completely out of the public eye for once. Here she was just another adventurer coming to conquer the Howling Fjord, not the Archmage and ruler of Theramore. The freedom in that fact was delicious.

She headed towards her room, eager to get out of her wet things. Her room here was shared by other guests, something rather unappealing to Jaina, and had bunk beds all in one large space rather than the small single bedrooms she'd grown used to in her travels. Someone on a nearby bunk was already asleep, and she didn't want to disturb him so quickly she pulled a new robe and leggings from her bag and went to the small bathroom area shared by all guests to change, making sure to lock the door once inside. She'd just finished changing clothes and had again arrived downstairs for something to eat when the alarm was sounded.

"Invaders incoming! Prepare the cannons!" shouted a frantic voice from the port. "Fire a warning shot!"

The two men at the bar leapt out of their chairs and headed for the door to see what the commotion was about. The barkeeper frowned and put down the glass he was cleaning, prepared to follow them. The drunken gnome, oblivious to all around him, kept dancing on the bar.

Jaina followed them outside. Not planning to get involved in the fight unless she absolutely had to as was her custom, she concealed herself with a cloaking spell and remained a distance behind the men.

Cries ranging from fear to excitement rang across Daggercap Bay as adventurers and Valgarde defenders alike seized weapons and clamored towards the northern wall of the keep. Dwarven builders were still reconstructing the old wall and a hole gaped like an open door halfway through the barrier there, inviting whatever ran wild around the woods at night inside. And in this case there was a different kind of threat in the woods besides wild animals.

In Dalaran there had been a briefing with Brann Bronzebeard and the Explorers' League concerning the half-giant men called Vrykul who assaulted Valgarde Keep constantly and resided in various parts of the continent. Jaina learned that this strange "seed race" was thought to be extinct for thousands of years until attacks began from Utgarde Keep; no one knew how or why these people returned but they proved themselves a tremendous threat to the Alliance when it was discovered that they worshipped the Lich King as a death god. Apparently a "King Ymiron" led them. The scholars of Dalaran in the Violet Hold froze one in suspended animation for further study.

The lines of defense were formed. Anticipation was thick in the air.

"Fire a warning shot!" howled an officer. "Fire a damn warning shot!"

"Don't let those monsters get through the gate! Stand firm, soldiers!"

"The Dragonflayer Clan will fall!"

Rabid gray worgs galloped forth from the woods, drooling with murderous fervor. Alongside them the huge wild men charged the line. Axes and spears glinted in the moonlight as they were carried across the river and towards the keep, the weapons sharp and deadly, and deep, guttural voices screamed phrases that could barely be understood.

"Battle hard, brothers! Rouse our sleeping kin with the echoes of war!"

"My life for Ymiron!"

Feral cries mingled with their battle shouts. "For the Death God!"

"The val'kyr surround us, brothers and sisters! Glory comes to those who sacrifice all for the Lich King!"

Val'kyr? Jaina's fingers massaged her temples as though trying to force information out of them but nothing came - well, after all her attention was probably focused on some Scourge attack or another at the time if the word had been mentioned in her presence before. She didn't remember hearing anything about creatures called "val'kyr" and made a mental note to inquire about them once back in Dalaran.

A ball of fire burst through the air and exploded upon the Valgarde defenders as Vrykul atop proto-drakes assaulted the fortress. Eyes watered and smoke clogged the lungs of the men and dwarves. As the fires from above multiplied, it became a strain to see incoming attackers before they were already upon the line. Pieces of the broken wall flew through the air as proto-drakes hit the wall with their talons; soldiers who couldn't see through the smoke where struck down by them.

Still the fighters stood strong. Using shields to protect themselves from the fire and their enemy's arsenal, they pushed the Vrykul out of the fort and into the woods past the river. Cannons fired upon the proto-drake riders who flew off to the west once they realized their ground assault failed.

"They're in retreat!"

Cheers rang out from the victorious. The fires were put out, creating even more smoke, but no one cared as men clapped each other on the back and raised their weapons in celebration. The few wounded were taken to the medical tents nearby.

As she solemnly looked upon the many corpses of half-giants and worgs, the still-concealed Jaina frowned. _If only there had been a peaceful solution…so few of those these days, it seems._ Guards took up positions on the wall and the adventurers returned to their drinks, but she slipped through the hole in the wall, careful not to thread on the bodies of the dead, and stood at the river's edge.

Past the water faint lights flickered in the darkness, the reflections dancing across Lake Cauldros. While the Vrykul were defeated for now, it was certain that nearby Wrymskull Village teemed with life. But how had these once-extinct people come back? Why? Obviously the Lich King had something to do with it but his reasons certainly weren't clear. Did this King Ymiron and his followers truly revere that monster as their death god?

Curious about these giant warriors and determined to see their living quarters up close, Jaina briskly trotted along the stone laden banks of the lake towards the settlement just north of the keep.

She could not have known that she was watched.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Everything in this story belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. There will be spoilers for _Arthas: Rise of the Lich King_ in this story.

Note: The Lich King's presence in the spirit world of Utgarde Keep refers to a WoW:WotLK quest called "The Echo of Ymiron." It's an Alliance only quest that can involve the Lich King if you seek him out.

_All that I am: anger, cruelty, vengeance…_

- The Lich King, WoW:WotLK

**The Shadows Grow Longer**

Chapter Two

The soft swishing of wings was not heard by Jaina. In fact it was not heard by anyone at all. At least not by anyone on the physical realm. In the cloudy realm of elements and spirits, however, the slight noise interrupted an otherwise soundless atmosphere. Dazed souls of dead Vrykul warriors who'd fought at Valgarde Keep only moments before, slaughtered by the sudden influx of the Alliance soldiers and their defense, rose from their lifeless bodies and ascended into this realm. Cold feminine voices interrupted the silence as the dead were called forth one by one.

"Eilif Skarnswold, you have been judged and found worthy! Arise and slaughter in the name of the Lich King!"

The soul of Eilif Skarnswold vanished, whisked away to the city of Ymirheim in Icecrown to be "reborn" to fight another day as one of the Lich King's elite warriors.

"Bersik Longpike, you have been judged and found lacking! To Zul'Drak you shall go! Be gone and serve the Master!"

Dissolving into thin air, Bersik Longpike's shade teleported to Algar the Chosen's Scourge at the ravaged Troll land of Zul'Drak where it would take the form of a far lesser being than that of Eilif Skarnswold.

"Hrafin of the Dragon Clan! You have been judged and found worthy! To Ymirheim with you! Go now and fight for your master!"

Thus the line of souls dwindled, sent away to their fates as judged by the luminous winged women garbed in white. For this was the domain of the val'kyr, servants of the Lich King. These terrible winged creatures kept watch over the living Vrykul from the spirit realm, judging their souls when they were slain in battle and either glorifying a worthy soul by presenting it to their master for ascension or else damning it to a less distinguished fate. Those souls found worthy by the val'kyr were christened "ymirjar" and joined the Lich King's army as an elite fighting force, some of the most deadly of all the dark lord's minions. Vrykul found lacking in battle prowess became "vargul," lowly creatures that served in the ranks of the Scourge alongside the zombies, abominations, and other lesser creatures.

Not only did the val'kyr judge the souls of the dead, however. A far more important task concerned them for they were the appointed body guards of the Lich King himself. Several handpicked Val'kyr Battle Maidens never strayed far from their master and like dogs they vied for his attention.

Jaina's strong presence alerted the val'kyr who watched over Wrymskull Village. While most continued to judge the dead warriors as they were ordered, two could not contain their excitement upon sensing the intense magic-laden glow emanating from the sorceress' body. They found the woman and trailed her for they could see through her concealment spell. So close to her were they that they could have reached out and stroked her hair had they been on the same plane. An aura this strong demanded the attention of their master, they knew, and they hastened to contact him. They did not have to go far.

From his throne in the heights of Icecrown Citadel, the Lich King meditated, projecting himself into the realm of spirits as time itself seemed brought to a standstill. Accompanied by his faithful bodyguards, the self-proclaimed ruler of Northrend stood silent vigil at the base of Utgarde Keep, watching at a distance while his minions judged the freshly dead souls from the onslaught against Valgarde . The very air around him shimmered and warped into a drab white.

The living Vrykul and the inhabitants of nearby Valgarde Keep – the Lich King remembered when he'd first landed there on that faithful arrival and ordered its construction – sensed nothing out of the ordinary although _he_ could feel _their_ energies swirling through the atmosphere. Only a shaman or priest would be able to sense him fully, and no one of the sort was anywhere near his location.

While he watched the proceedings, his mind sorted through all of the things that required his attention: the siege of Wintergarde Keep by Naxxramas and Kel'Thuzad, the threatening presence of the Old Gods at Ulduar awakened by those fools of the Explorers' League, the attacks on the Westfall Brigade that he planned for Arugal and the Silverbrook worgen, and a hundred other different things of the like.

Until he felt _her_.

The recognition came to him long before his minions caught on to the presence, his many thoughts suddenly interrupted by the unmistakable aura, that luminous radiation around her body emitting pure strength and teeming with all three schools of magic practiced by mages, the latter a rare feature as mages usually only mastered one of them. Only two people he'd known harbored such qualities, and he had killed one of them long ago. The other…

_Jaina._

In truth he was surprised to find her there in the Howling Fjord. His spies hadn't reported any scheduled departures or arrivals even though they watched her, along with the other leaders of the Alliance and Horde, as closely as possible.

Such an unexpected opportunity was not to be wasted, he decided. How tempting it was to kill her outright and steal her soul, that tantalizing energy surrounding her filling him with lust, pleading to be transformed into more of the dark power that consumed him. But no! It would be wrong to act rashly.

All of the original "conspirators" against him – his father, Uther, and Muradin – were dead by his hand save her. He loathed the memory of Uther the Lightbringer more than any other. He scorned all thoughts of King Terenas save for the man's death. He despised Muradin for trying to persuade him to leave Frostmourne. He detested Jaina for leaving him at Stratholme when he'd needed her most, for betraying him to Uther when he commandeered his father's fleet, and most of all for deceiving him with her false words of passion.

_You swore you'd never deny me, Jaina. But when I most needed your support, your understanding, you turned against me._

Amid seven long years of dreaming, building Icecrown Citadel telepathically through his minions, and watching events on Azeroth, he had not forgotten her. The woman was not someone he'd thought of constantly, being as busy with other matters as he was, but now that she was here, so close, his full attention fixated upon her, remembering her betrayals anew and the old hunger for vengeance rushed through him. Residual anger long held back manifested itself in his chest as he considered this. Oh, she would regret her actions _very much_ by the time he was through with her. And it appeared that now just might be a perfect time to seize her.

But first of all he had to find her. Clearly she wasn't far.

"You feel it, val'kyr. The presence of a mortal with great power," he stated matter-of-factly to the two undead bodyguards hovering at his side. "Your sisters follow the source even now. Continue to monitor it but do not reveal yourselves – the time for that will come soon enough."

"As you command, my king." The winged undead floated off to find the others without question.

Watching his minions depart, the Lich King again reached out with his mind, telepathically connecting with other servants across Northrend. Preparations needed to be made before he laid hands on his guest. First and foremost, he ordered a spy to Valgarde Keep at once so it could be learned what Jaina Proudmoore was doing there and how long she planned to stay, this last bit of information critical in determining the next move. One of the Scourge's best, a shapeshifter stationed at Westguard Keep, was heading to the new location within seconds of contact.

After issuing a few more minor orders to various followers in Icecrown Citadel, he contacted Kel'Thuzad at Naxxramas.

The lich sat upon his throne in the upper chambers of his necropolis, monitoring the activities in the various wings of the place. When his master's voice boomed through the chamber without warning, he ceased his supervision and listened intently.

"Kel'Thuzad."

"Yes, my lord?" Kel'Thuzad eagerly inquired. " Do you wish to hear of the latest report from the Carrion Fields? The -"

His master brushed him off. "Soon. A new matter concerns you as an old friend of mine is hiding out at Valgarde Keep for reasons unknown, and it has been far past time for a certain debt to be paid. I will require your assistance."

"My lord?"Kel'Thuzad wasn't particularly surprised to hear this; the Lich King had many enemies who fit the description. What did surprise him was the wicked glee in his master's voice. "I will be more than delighted to make preparations for a new 'guest' in Naxxramas if it so pleases you."

"She will be kept here at Icecrown."

The pronoun revealed much to the former sorcerer, to the point that he involuntarily sat up straighter upon his throne. "You intend to take _her_? If I may inquire -" he hesitated. He knew that his master planned to capture the woman in question at some point but he'd assumed that would be after the final battle. This new development was certainly unexpected, and it troubled him.

"Speak."

"- what tactical purpose does this serve, my king? You intend to turn her to our cause, perhaps transform her into a banshee?"

After all, what use was the woman otherwise?

"Of course she will turn." The Lich King's voice remained cool despite his minion's clear disapproval. "Indeed, she will prove most useful in the onslaught against Azeroth after I've broken her, but I do not plan to kill her and raise her as another mindless minion. She will prove more useful to us alive at this time."

_Ah. _His master's words and the relish in which they were spoken in revealed the hidden intentions behind this scheme.

"You seek vengeance against this woman," Kel'Thuzad noted flatly. Then, noticing how harsh he'd sounded and uneager to displease his master, he quickly added, "She has done much to earn your ire, of course, and deserves to suffer dearly for what she did. However, wouldn't it be prudent to wait until our victory to take your revenge as planned?"

"Many unseen events will take place between now and then, Kel'Thuzad. There might not be another chance. As noted before, she would prove a great ally to our cause." The tone of his voice left no room for argument. "I require your expertise regarding a particular aspect of her captivity, however."

"Anything."

"Her power has risen considerably since I last encountered her, perhaps rivaling Antonidas in magical ability. She could not hope to challenge me, of course, but while my will shall seal in her my domain and keep her from teleporting, it would still be wise to restrain her in regards to her more aggressive spells. I won't underestimate her; should she manage to escape and wander freely in the citadel, the results could be disastrous. You shall find a way to ensure that does not happen."

"Anti-magic chains shall not suffice?"

"I am taking no chances. Mere anti-magic chains might not hold her. Create ones that _nothing _can destroy."

The lich hesitated. "I will do what I can."

"See to it personally, Kel'Thuzad."

"Of course, my king." Feeling the Lich King's presence dwindle, Kel'Thuzad glided off in the direction of the Construct Wing. The former mage almost pitied the woman as he knew his master despised her more than any other living being, and with good reason. What opportunity had arisen regarding her? He would have to ask later. For now he had a particularly interesting task to perform.

Back in Icecrown, the Lich King sneered. One gauntleted hand clenched the hilt of Frostmourne, and the surge of power that rippled through his body as thousands of tortured souls screamed was glorious. Propelled by the force, he projected himself back into the spirit world surrounding Wrymskull Village.

Two val'kyr came to him immediately. "We have kept watch on this mortal as you ordered, my king," one of them hissed. "She is very close."

He already knew this. "Show me."

The winged undead guided him to the western edge of the village, and for the first time in eight years he beheld Jaina Proudmoore, his former lover and betrayer, as her slight form wandered the docks, inspecting harpoon guns and stealing into the old houses. Singling out details of her face proved impossible from the distance but there was no denying her identity; he even recognized the swift, cautious gait of her walk.

Despite her great training as a mage, the woman possessed no power to sense the winged creatures that followed her every move; with the arrival of the Lich King whose malicious energy was so powerful that it penetrated all realms to some extent, however, that changed. She was sensitive enough to feel the dark presence that suddenly lurked nearby.

Jaina didn't know what was going on exactly but her senses were assaulted with an essence that could only be described as revolting. Periodically she glanced over her shoulder as though expecting to catch someone watching her.

Where was the essence coming from? It had appeared out of nowhere and seemed to be coming from Utgarde Keep…

Unnerved, she backed off of the dock and headed for the safety of the fort. The val'kyr eagerly pursued her until their master commanded they return. Like the obedient servants they were, they ended their chase and returned to their master's side at the base of Utgarde Keep.

For his part the Lich King just smiled wolfishly. _Let her run for now. The tables will turn soon enough._

Jaina made it back to Valgarde and removed her cloaking spell. The darkness emanating from the Keep was unsettling to say the least and her stomach turned, upset by the energy. A wave of nausea swept through her. She leaned against the wall of the keep, steadied herself, and long minutes past as she struggled to regain her composure. Eventually the sickness subsided and she slowly wandered back to the inn.

Tired and hungry, she went back to the bar area, ignoring the still-drunk gnome who was singing a bawdy song in a horribly off-key voice. She was so lost in thought concerning Utgarde Keep that she didn't notice as she was approached.

"Hello thar, miss," a bass voice greeted boisterously from behind. Startled, she turned to see a brown headed dwarf with a massive beard that nearly touched the ground. "Me friend 'ere and I are headin' for the keep of the half-giants to the north," he explained. "We be needin' some good fighters to accompany us." He raised his mug and grinned. "There be riches in it for ya."

"Oh… no, thank you," she stammered. "I-I have things to attend to here."

"Your loss, lass." Seeing that he embarrassed the woman, he added, "Sorry ta have bothered ye, miss. Have a good one." The dwarf turned his attention back to his white headed companion.

At the same time a petite young woman spoke up from the bar area, trying to catch the dwarf's attention. "Sir! Sir! I'll go with you! I'm an experienced healer and I'm in need –"

"In need of gold? We all are, missy!" The dwarves laughed heartily.

Clenching her hands in agitation, the girl shook her head. "No! I'm not… yes, I need gold but… well, going into that keep is the same as signing your own death warrant," she explained, bitterness steaming in her voice. "And I have nothing left to lose."

Gently the white haired dwarf commented, "We ain't plannin' on dyin', lass. We'll go in, slaughter some warriors and get gold and nice trinkets out of the deal, simple as that."

"Just the same, I will accompany you."

"Yer' on board then, lassie. We'll find perhaps two more to come along and then be set. Tomorrow at sunrise we start for Utgarde Keep."

An old draenei priest overheard the conversation. "Do not go," he pled with the three. "I've sensed much evil coming from that place. You do not know what you're up against. It is said that one of the Darkfallen resides there."

Jaina remembered what she'd been told about Utgarde Keep and the even more perilous Utgarde Pinnicle. Yes, a Darkfallen and lord of the Scourge, Prince Keleseth, kept residence there along with Vrykul and various denizens of the Scourge, making it a very dangerous – but tempting – place for adventurers. She wished the group wouldn't go seeking out trouble, but who was she to stop them?

"I've heard the same," she said quietly, remembering the terrible presence coming from the place just minutes before. "Why go searching for trouble like that? Enough of it surrounds us already."

With a subtle smile in her direction, the priest piped up again. "The mage is correct," he said, "and you would be wise to listen to her words. You can find plenty of gold around here if you talk to some of the commanders. Why go seeking out a Darkfallen and Light-knows what else that lurks in that place?"

"Why not?" snapped the girl.

The priest glared at her and returned to his drink.

It was obvious to see that the young woman sought death. _Poor thing,_ Jaina thought as she watched the girl steal back to her seat at the bar with a pinched face and lifeless eyes. _She can't be older than sixteen or seventeen. And how tragic it would be if she threw away her life so young! Surely whatever has happened to her can't be as bad as that. I've seen so many lives wasted already… I've got to say something. _

The idea frightened her; Jaina had always been shy around strangers and preferred to stay out of other people's personal business if as she could help it. But she would feel as though the girl's blood was on her hands if the young one indeed died in the morning and she hadn't spoken up. She couldn't just walk away. _I walked away at Stratholme and look where it got those poor people… _The memory made her sick.

Timid, she rose from her seat and approached the girl, saying softly, "Excuse me, miss, I couldn't help but overhear-"

Head snapping up, the girl glared at Jaina, rancor in her brown eyes. "Don't try to talk me out of it," she warned.

"I'm not going to."

"You aren't?" The girl studied her.

"No. But I would know why you seek to end your life, friend. Will you not at least tell me that?"

"My family was wiped out by the plague." Tears welled in her eyes, and she visibly bit her lip, trying to stop them. "My fiancé was murdered not a week ago in Westfall. H- he had returned home to retrieve his inheritance so we'd have enough money to get started at Fort Wildevar, you know, the settlement northeast of here. We were going to have a homestead ." She paused and drew a painful breath. "He was robbed and killed on his way back to Northrend, his body tossed alongside the road to Goldshire and left to rot like a dead animal. An animal! My David!" Her frail body shook with sobs and sighs. Noticing that the other patrons in the bar were staring at her, the girl leapt from her seat and bolted towards the upstairs rooms.

Jaina followed her. "Wait!" she called desperately.

"Leave me alone!"

"I'm so sorry to hear about your loss. I really and truly am." The softly spoken words gave the agitated girl pause. "I was in your shoes once. I had a lover who… died before we could start our life together." Jaina found her mind bringing back images that she'd sworn to forget.

"I know how it feels," she continued. "You feel like you're drowning, being sucked down in a whirlpool of pain. You feel helpless. You are alone. You feel guilty."_If you think you truly know guilt, young one, you are wrong. You didn't get thousands of people killed because of your foolishness._

Despondent, the girl nodded her head. "I want to join him," she whispered as she leaned against the wall. "I want David back. They took him from me. I should have been there!" The tears started afresh.

"Been there to die with him?"

"Yes."

"But you weren't. Do you think your David would want you to throw your life away? The life he probably cherished more than his own? I know he wouldn't."

No response.

"I can't stop you if you want to go to Utgarde Keep in the morning. There is evil there, a horrible evil. I felt it tonight as I walked in the woods." Jaina involuntarily quivered as she remembered that dreadful presence creeping up on her. "We both know there is a strong chance you and your companions won't come back alive. Go if you must. But don't go for the wrong reason. David wouldn't want you to, would he?"

"No. Of course not." She looked at Jaina, her face red and swollen with tears. "I-I think I'll go rest now," she said quietly and turned to slink away towards her bunk.

Jaina felt like she should touch the girl's shoulder or make some comforting physical contact but she was reluctant to do so. What if she just upset the girl more? She settled for her kindest smile. "Yes, of course," she replied. "Light be with you." The sorceress returned to her own bunk, forgetting about supper. _Please protect that girl, _she prayed to no one in particular as she sat down on her bed. _Don't let her do anything rash-_

_Rash._ The word always reminded her of -

Arthas had been rash, headstrong, vindictive… and she had loved him so much. They'd been perfect for each other. Nothing would ever separate Jaina Proudmoore and Arthas Menethil. Oh, indeed she knew what it was like to lose a loved one; only unlike the girl she had lost Arthas through her own fault.

_You just walked away, _she chided herself, self-hatred flooding her chest. _Three different times you walked away when he needed you. When you could have stopped him. When you could have saved those people _and when you could have saved him_._

Numerous times Aegwynn – may her soul rest in peace - and others had confronted her about blaming herself over things that couldn't be controlled, the Stratholme incident in particular, saying she was too hard on herself, took things too personally. Rhonin had even sent her away, for Heaven's sake, upon seeing how much she blamed herself for the way the Ulduar meeting had ended… well, that and she'd been working day and night for the past two weeks with little to no sleep, but that wasn't the point. The point was that she had a devastating weakness, and Jaina despised herself for it. If she couldn't control her emotions, she'd be a burden in the fight against the Lich King, not an asset.

Desperate to escape from herself, Jaina set her jaw in a firm line and fished out a book to read, trying not to disturb the sleepers. Tomorrow she'd go back to Dalaran and lose herself in her work as she always did.

_No more of this "take time to yourself" nonsense,_ she thought irritably. _My people need me. Azeroth needs me to be strong. I've wasted enough time on this silly sabbatical of Rhonin's already._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Everything in this story belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. There will be spoilers for _Arthas: Rise of the Lich King_ in this story.

**The Shadows Grow Longer**

Chapter Three

Rain swept across the Howling Fjord. Wildlife scrambled to take refuge in the foliage. The wild half-giants of Wyrmskull stuck to their lodgings and did not attack again. Likewise, the inhabitants of Valgarde Keep sought shelter in the wooden garrison and inn, trying to sleep despite the hard pebbles of hail that pounded like a mammoth against the roof and sides of the buildings.

Jaina tossed in her bedding. The dreams were back.

_Why didn't you listen? She stood at her father's grave. Rain poured overhead, soaking her clothing as she wept._

"_Why have you betrayed me?" To the right of the grave Daelin Proudmoore materialized, tall and regal just as in life. "Why have you betrayed me?" he demanded. "Betrayed your people?"_

"_I have betrayed no one! There can be peace! There IS peace!"_

"_You think your Warchief isn't like the others. Such a deception! He will turn on you, Jaina, when the time is right and you will be completely unprepared. Your people will meet their deaths and the blood will be on your hands. You will be damned!"_

_That isn't true, she knew. The orcs were not evil and certainly not Thrall. _

_But her father wouldn't listen for he was too consumed by hatred. _

"_No daughter of mine will befriend those animals!" Suddenly Daelin's handsome face seemed to melt until it had taken on the features of a fleshless skull. Two bright fires burned where the eyes should have been. _

"_You are nothing but a disappointment and a fool," he hisseed. "The Proudmoore name is wasted on you. From this moment on, you are not my daughter but one of _them_ instead!" _

_Derek was there, a miserable creature with burned flesh and dead eyes. Barnacles coated his charred body. "Why, Jaina?" he cried in despair. "You insult my death, my memory! Everything I fought for!"_

"_Derek! No! I-I'm sorry! Your memory -"_

"_I'll know you're sorry when you take up arms against those vile creatures yourself! Not before!"_

"_I won't!"_

"_Of course not. You'll already be dead by then, slain by your so-called allies!"_

None of it is true! I've done what's right! I've done what's right!

_Jaina tried to run but her feet were frozen to the ground._

"_And you've even dared to have certain feelings for _that monster_!" It is obvious whom Daelin referred to. "What have you become, my child? How could you even consider it?"_

"_You didn't listen!" she cried. "You didn't listen! If only you'd listened!"_

Here the dream changed.

"_May this 'death god' take you and your Warchief!" Her father snarled in a voice that wasn't his own. "I will have nothing more to do with you and your Horde!" In the blink of an eye the admiral vanished._

_Derek stared mournfully at his little sister. "You are the one who didn't listen, Jaina," he whispered. "Why didn't you listen?" _

_A withered hand reached out to touch her arm. She flinched. _

"_Fight them, Jaina" he continued. "This might be the last chance. You have to choose: the Horde or _us_!"_

"_No! There is no choice! This is a dream! You are dead and gone! Leave me!"_

"_We both know I am hardly dead and gone, my sister. I live on…"_

And she awoke, cold and disturbed. Those on the bunks around her snored loudly, oblivious to her distress.

Jaina knew she'd always done what was right, what was honorable, what was best for her people. Her father's death wasn't her fault and she knew it; he had signed his own death warrant. She was proud of what she and Thrall had accomplished in terms of peace between their peoples. She knew all these things. Yet still the dreams came. Why did they haunt her? They were her burden, things to be borne alone.

_This ridiculous. I can't keep losing sleep over these things; I have my people to think of and what is done is done. Clearly this whole mess with Ulduar is still getting to me. _She rolled into a more comfortable position and rested her head against her arm.

_I must think of something calming… a good memory._

Unfortunately what came into her head first were images of a handsome young man with a charming smile.

_Damnit. Arthas._

She had been so eager to marry him; perhaps she was too forward and scared him off? No, _he'd_ been the one to rekindle the romance. How thrilled she'd felt as he whispered that they belonged together into her ear while they cuddled secretly in Jaina's blankets only hours before fate intervened. Since that quiet moment the plague, her horrible actions (_inactions_), his downfall, and her departure to Kalimdor, sealed off their relationship for good.

As the Lich King's champion, Arthas committed numerous unforgivable crimes… and yet she could never stop loving him. The death knight was a good person once; she couldn't help but think he still was somewhere inside.

That was before he'd merged with the orc shaman and became the Lich King, however, and now she considered Arthas dead. He simply ceased to exist.

Jaina still grieved. Most likely she'd grieve for him the rest of her life. But now the time had come to look past that grief and think of the future.

_Don't think of him,_ Jaina grumpily scolded herself. _He isn't worthy of your time now. Think of Thrall._ Suddenly realizing how much she had missed the Warchief, she added silently, _my best friend. _

The two didn't see each other very often, but when they did everything seemed right in the world, at least for a little while. Together they had accomplished much. From the Battle of Mount Hyjal to the Battle of Durator to the conflict with the Burning Blade, the two leaders managed to keep the peace between their rival races, even encouraged friendship between them. Not to mention the Warchief had a warm personality that was a breath of fresh air to Jaina who was used to dealing with stuffy diplomats and unruly soldiers. Never in a million years did she think she would be best friends with an orc. She recalled when they'd first met at Stonetalon Peak, prepared to tear each other's throats out. So much had changed. Jaina hadn't spoken to him since the Ulduar incident and she longed to meet up with him at their designated place in the Barrens as they had much to talk about.

_Ulduar. At this rate I'll never get to sleep. _But somehow she managed to shut off the flow of unwelcome thoughts and slept at peace for the rest of the night.

The morning found Jaina in a much better mood than the night before. The sorceress eagerly anticipated her arrival in Dalaran, for from Dalaran after she spoke with Rhonin she would port to Theramore_._

Downstairs she collected breakfast. A serving girl smiled at her. "Staying much longer, ma'am? I overheard a couple of gentlemen who came in earlier – they were searching for a mage or warlock of some sort to go to the nearby ruins with them. There might be some gold in it for you."

The statement made Jaina remember the poor girl from the previous night.

"No," she answered, "unfortunately I take my leave today as I have duties elsewhere. But did you happen to recall if there was a girl of about sixteen with those men? A young girl with brown eyes and long black hair?"

"No, ma'am, they were alone."

_Perhaps she didn't go then. _

Jaina thanked the woman and finished her meal in silence.

The sun shone through the windows of the inn as she ate, and Jaina smelled the scent of fresh rain in the air, crisp and cool. The temptation to go outside was great and she gave in, walking out to the docks and enjoying the view of the cliffs. She would still be headed back earlier than anticipated and could afford to tarry a bit.

Down to the winding river that ran swiftly along the western side of Valgarde she went. The bodies from the previous attack had been cleared away by the soldiers, and the rain cleansed the blood from the earth where they had fallen. Bursting with the added water, the swollen river itself ran much more quickly than before. Little frogs, called out of their holes by the sun, leapt away off the bank and into the river if she passed too close, their gentle splashing blending in nicely with the singing of birds and the soft swishing of the water.

There was no sign of the unwelcome presence she'd felt the night before.

An inviting rock caught her eye. With an almost childlike glee, Jaina seated herself upon it and crossed her legs.

_It really is gorgeous here,_ she reflected as she took a deep breath of sweet air and played with the long grass surrounding her seat. _I've been so busy grumbling about why I am here that I haven't noticed how peaceful it can be. I wish I could stay longer - _

Remorse stabbed at her chest as she thought of how she'd neglected Theramore for the past weeks, and here she was now even considering a longer stay! She looked into the river guiltily. Yes, she'd been away for too long, but a sudden thought seized her, one that had long been tucked away. Did she have to completely sacrifice her own happiness for duty? The answer had always been a resounding 'yes'. She silently resented not being able to study as she would have been able to had she not been a leader but accepted it without complaint. It was her duty, after all, and not something to be taken lightly.

Yet here as she watched the river flow and listened to the serene sounds of nature, she felt a wild urge to throw off all responsibilities – really and truly this time – and take time, yes, a good amount of time, to herself. No leadership duties, politics, Ulduar, nothing but herself and her own desires. Everyone needed a break at some point, didn't they? But the thought of staying longer shamed her all the same.

_Do I or not?_ she thought. _I know it's wrong, I know my people need me, but on the other hand I've given myself to duty so completely for so long…_

For an hour or so she sat thus, torn in her thoughts. Only when a voice broke the silence from behind her did she return to reality.

"Excuse me, miss-"

Jaina jumped a mile at the sound and whirled around to face its source, relaxing only when she saw the brown eyed girl from the night before.

The younger woman was taken back.

"I'm sorry!" she said, lowering her gaze. "I see I startled you."

Relieved to see the girl alive and well, Jaina smiled. "No trouble at all. I'm glad to see you are still here."

"I did go with them to the Keep this morning. But I turned back after we killed a few of those disgusting warriors. " She looked Jaina in the eye as though trying to read more of her. "You are wise."

Jaina kicked at a pebble. "I've had a lot of experience with battles and death," she admitted somberly, "and I couldn't watch you go in that state without saying _something_."

"I feel like such a fool. David wouldn't have ever wanted me to do what I planned to do."

"No, I'm sure he wouldn't. He would want you to live a long, happy life. You'll get past the grief eventually. Yes, there will always be sadness in your heart for him and what might have been, but as time passes you'll learn to live again. I know I had to."

The girl pondered this a moment. "I never got to say that I am sorry for your loss as well," she said. "I was so wrapped up in myself that I didn't think to do so. I apologize."

"Thank you but it was years ago." Jaina waved a dismissive hand.

"Still, I am sorry."

Only the river flowing along made any noise as both women were lost in their own thoughts.

The sorceress studied the young woman, envious of her freedom from the world of politics. "Where are you from?" she inquired politely.

"Oh! I grew up in Elwynn Forest on a farm near Northshire. David was from Westfall."

"Elwynn is a lovely place. I've been there many times."

"And you?"

"I'm from Kul Tiras originally," Jaina hesitated, "but more recently I've lived in Theramore." Trying to draw attention away from herself, she quickly said, "I'm sorry – I don't believe I've caught your name."

"I'm sorry! I'm Lyrinne McClendon."

"Nice to meet you, Lyrinne." Jaina's mind raced. She hated lying but didn't want to blow her cover. "I'm Jana."

"Nice to meet you too, Jana." Lyrinne squinted up at the sky and lifted a hand to her brow so she could shade her eyes. "Aren't you hot out here in the sun?" she asked.

"I'm rather enjoying myself, actually."

"It _is_ pretty out here. When the wild men and worgs aren't around, I mean."

"Yes, last night was pretty ugly, wasn't it?" Jaina wished the girl would leave her to herself but she remained polite.

"Those creatures are even worse up close – I saw them this morning. They stink like skunks and their teeth are like fangs, kind of like the yetis in Alterac I'd say, rather than those of men. I wonder why I'd never heard of them before coming to Valgarde."

"Well, apparently they are an ancient race long thought to be extinct for thousands of year. No one knows why or how they returned." _Though I know the Lich King has something to do with it,_ she thought grimly.

Lyrinne's eyes lit up. "Are you part of the Explorers' League?"

"Me? Oh, no. I have no time to run around searching for lost treasures and ancient civilizations." She chuckled. "I'd much rather study magic. All I know of those wild Vrykul comes from overhearing various conversations about them." That wasn't exactly the truth but it was close enough.

"Oh. So why are you here, if you don't mind my asking? Searching for fame and adventure like everyone else?"

"Not exactly. I was taking a break from… my job. The Howling Fjord sounded like a nice place to come," she ended lamely. "I'm leaving soon."

"Well, that's nice. Everyone needs a break sometimes," said Lyrinne. She got up and smiled at Jaina. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, Jana, but I wanted to thank you again for what you said last night. If you hadn't –"

"Think nothing of it. You're most welcome and -" Jaina began when out of nowhere a fist connected with the side of her head. Dazed, she staggered sideways, and Lyrinne shrieked.

Hissing val'kyr, hideous to look at and teeming with dark energy, materialized in the surrounding air, circling their prey.

Catching a glimpse of the horrible winged women and wondering just what the hell they were, Jaina gritted her teeth against the pain in her head. Summoning fire in her hands, she cast a huge fire bolt at one of the creatures, and the air filled with the horrible smell of burning flesh.

"Get out of here!" she bellowed at the cowering Lyrinne. "RUN!"

"But I can heal –"

The sorceress cut her off. "I said run!" she demanded in her most authoritarian voice. Suddenly she was back at Hyjal, back at the Barrens fighting against the Burning Blade Clan. Adrenalin pumped through her body.

Water elementals appeared at her side, joining the attack as Jaina muttered a spell and slowed the movement of the undead women. The archmage shot off another firebolt, but this time the val'kyr were ready for her and dodged the projectile.

Seeing that the mage clearly needed distance to press her attacks, they swooped upon Jaina, shrieking and clawing at her face and shoulders. Summoning their own dark powers they propelled bolts of swirling white energy into the woman's upper body at close range, weakening her.

"I don't wish to fight but if you keep insisting…" Summoning a force field around her that damped their blows, Jaina stepped back, trying to gain some ground.

"Don't wish to fight?" they jeered. "Surrender then! Surrender! There is only one end!"

"I think not!"Jaina teleported one of the attackers a good distance away and proceeded with great effort to cast a blizzard spell that cut at the bodies of the others, the damage building up over time. "What are you vile creatures? Speak!"

"We are the val'kyr, champions of the Lich King!" One creature hissed.

_Val'kyr, champions of the…? _Jaina clenched her jaw. _Great._

Whatever the val'kyr just shot into her was taking a toll on her body, she could tell. She could probably take down two but the odds were against her with four; these strange creatures were _extremely _powerful and together they were more than a match for the most powerful sorceress on Azeroth. Hopefully Lyrinne would bring help.

As the creatures fell upon her, the sorceress raised her staff and sent a wave of fire bolts hurtling towards the attackers.

"I hate resorting to violence," she said, but it was a lie this time and she damn well knew it. Satisfaction filled her as she watched several of the winged women fall screeching to the ground in blazing heaps. "But you asked for it!"

The water elementals multiplied in number and continued to bombard the attackers.

"Die then!"

"For the Master!"

The val'kyr were frustrated. This mortal proved much more deadly than she appeared, far stronger than any human mage they'd encountered before. Again they charged and again they were propelled back by a blizzard that stung their flesh and stabbed at their eyes. Recovering, they spread out, surrounding the human. Two flew at Jaina from the front while the others circled around and lunged for her back. The attack was successful; a vicious claw ripped into the exposed skin on the sorceress' arm, forming a large gash that cut through the bone and gushed blood as the val'kyr bombarded her from behind, beating at her head and shoulders and hurling bolts of white energy into her back.

Her water elementals were quickly being brought down by the onslaught of sinister magic. Again Jaina teleported one of the val'kyr away and summoned her blizzard. This time, however, it swung in a clockwise circle around its creator, forcing the undead women away in all directions.

The mage leaned against a tree, panting and clutching her upper arm as blood dripped to the ground into a small pool. As much as she hated to run while in battle, it would be better to live now and fight another day rather than fall at the hands of these fell creatures, and thus she closed her eyes and focused her energy on the interior of Valgarde. The defenders of the keep would aid her in overpowering the beasts -

Something blocked her teleport.

Eyes snapping open in surprise, Jaina recognized the terrible aura from the night before as it washed over her body. Someone or something else had entered the picture, something far more powerful than these val'kyr. Could it be…?

With a cry she hurled herself forward, galloping towards Valgarde. Her mind swam and her arm throbbed. Daring at look downwards, she barely recognized the red mess that was her right arm and a wave of nausea overtook her; Jaina never told anyone as it was an embarrassing weakness but the sight of mass quantities of blood sickened her still, despite her time spent on battlefields and tending to the gravely wounded. Seeing her own arm almost severed from her body seemed to drain all of the energy from her head, and she stumbled along on failing legs, the val'kyr continuing to shoot those draining white bolts into her back as she went.

_So close to the wall… just a few more yards… _But her body was preparing to shut down, and Jaina knew she couldn't hold onto consciousness for much longer.

"Hang on, lassie! We're comin'!" shouted a welcome voice.

Other cries were heard from the nearby wall. Lyrinne had indeed alerted the occupants of the base to Jaina's plight, and the defenders came running as they had the night before. Gunfire and the boom of cannons shot through the air.

"Back, ye devils!"

"FIRE!"

"Keep coming, miss!"

"Get a healer over here! She's badly hurt!"

An explosion rang through the air, throwing everything into confusion. Calls of encouragement turned into screams of terror. Jaina herself watched in dazed horror as a sort of lightening shot out from somewhere behind her, hitting the soldiers closest to her and killing them on the spot. But that wasn't the worst of it. Twitching and writhing, the limp, charred bodies rose from the ground almost immediately, burning with dark energies that reanimated them. Hungrily they turned on their former allies, their flailing hands reaching for anything that could be devoured on the spot.

The focus of the defense turned from the val'kyr and Jaina to these new combatants as the strange lightening continued to pour, killing and reanimating more defenders. Those left unscathed quickly become overwhelmed by the newest members of the Scourge. A retreat to the barracks was called and the soldiers fled, pursued by twisted bodies of their former friends.

Meanwhile Jaina had fallen to her knees, the loss of blood too great to withstand. The world grew hazy and her brain barely registered the chaos from the keep in front of her.

A large plated hand seized her by the nape of the neck and hauled her to her feet, holding her upright as she swayed towards the ground. And that was all she remembered before the blessed darkness took her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Everything in this story belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. There will be spoilers for _Arthas: Rise of the Lich King_.

**The Shadows Grow Longer**

Chapter Four

The Lich King sat perfectly motionless upon his icy throne, his psyche linked with that of one of his underlings. If he wished, his mind could connect with the entirety of his undead army, from his commanding liches down to the most mindless zombies and skeletons, and what a wonderful influx of power that was! In those moments he could feel and sense everything that they could: their blood lust, the feel of steel in their hands, the screams, and the smell of blood thick in the air. It was glorious. But today he simply required contact with Lich-lord Chillwinter from Talramas.

An attack against Warsong Hold had been well underway for the past few hours. Forces of the Neru'bar crawled through their underground tunnels, emerging in the Mightstone Quarry to attack the unsuspecting Warsong soldiers stationed at various points among the ridges, and the nearby Cult of the Damned joined with the Scourge from Talramas to launch an offensive from the East. Undead warriors were teleported in by the hundreds and, led by Lich-lord Chillwinter, they easily took the eastern side of the hold as their Nerubian allies secured the surrounding quarry.

The Horde had been caught off guard, no indication of an impending assault given beforehand. In fact it was assumed the Lich King's forces were concentrating on the Alliance held port of Valgarde in the Howling Fjord; the keep there was now the site of what had been a furious battle two days prior, having nearly been burned to ashes. Many of the Alliance defenders were cut down and raised as Scourge and the local Dragonflayer Clan joined in on the apparent offense. In a stroke of great luck, however, several boats full of soldiers fresh from Menethil Harbor arrived and reinforced the defenders. The Alliance eventually won the day there although their base lay in ruins.

At any rate Garrosh Hellscream and Varok Saurfang quickly established a defensive line from the middle of the keep spreading out to the west. Their soldiers, vicious and capable, pushed forward and struck down many of the Scourge invaders, throwing them aside in broken heaps as easily as cattle flick flies away with their tails. The Cult of the Damned proved harder to kill, the powerful necromancers and crafty acolytes using their dark magic to assault the orcs, but in the end they too were slaughtered like animals under those mighty axes.

A retreat was called by Chillwinter when it became apparent that the cowardly Cult of the Damned had began to flee the scene, causing a massive reduction of force on the field as so many undead had been lost already.

The Lich King swore he would hunt down those foolish mortals, kill them, and raise their bodies to fight for him until they dropped defeated in battle, never to turn tail again. Other than his irritation at the weakness of the humans, however, the ill-fated assault didn't bother him in the slightest for he'd primarily planned the attack in the first place as a simple test of the readiness of his forces in the Borean Tundra. Tested they had been and found quite lacking, just as expected. They would be dealt with and swiftly as Kel'Thuzad would be controlling them from Naxxramas, he decided, effective immediately.

Focusing his energies upon the ancient ziggurat in Dragonblight, the Lich King called out to his servant.

Kel'Thuzad was instantly responsive. "Greetings, Master," he said. The lich inclined his head with respect even though the Lich King was not physically in attendance. "How may I be of service to you?"

"Report on the situation at Wintergarde."

"Of course. The Carrion Fields are now completely under our control, what scant crops and supplies the village there provided the keep decimated and the villagers dispersed. Most are living as refugees at Wintergarde Keep. Those foolish enough to remain were slain by the Scourge or else taken to Naxxramas as test subjects for our various experiments." A pause. His master said nothing and cautiously Kel'Thuzad continued. "Several Alliance siege engines have been captured and destroyed, and the rest cut off from the other troops, unless without orders or backup," he said. "The wretched 7th Legion has ceased sending ground troops past the second tier of the keep itself as we've continued to push them back into their own base; the front lines are in the middle of the city as of today. We –"

The Lich King was unimpressed. "Continue the push and _crush_ the 7th Legion, Kel'Thuzad. They have proved an irritant for far too long."

"Yes, of course, my master. They will not be able to hold against the full might of Naxxramas. More troops are being prepared in my laboratories even now, and there are plenty of fresh death knights."

"I have come to inform you of the situation at Talramas and your newest assignment."

"My lord?"

"They have had ample time to prove themselves yet again and once more come up lacking. You will personally oversee Chillwinter and monitor his progress against the fortresses of the Alliance and Horde. You also need to pay some special attention to your Cult of the Damned there – they fled during battle. See to it that they do not fail again." This assignment was not one Kel'Thuzad would have much enthusiasm for, and the Lich King knew it. But the lich accepted it calmly, hiding his true feelings.

"It shall be done. Warsong Hold and Valiance Keep will be destroyed, I assure you."

_If only it were so simple. _"Good. Now what of the task I charged you with yesterday?"

"Regarding the sorceress? My best are working on it but a way to contain such properties has yet to be found although we have been studying the cells of the Violet Citadel for some-"

"You have two days."

"Very well." Kel'Thuzad paused and couldn't help but ask, "May I inquire about the present state of the situation?"

A note of triumph rang in the Lich King's voice before he could stop it. "She is here," he replied.

"And she is safely contained?"

"For now. Two days, Kel'Thuzad."

"It shall be done."

The mind link severed, the Lich King found himself alone in the cavernous room of ice surrounding the Frozen Throne once more. Luckily the day hadn't been a complete failure. One of his highest ranking prisoners was beginning to bend to his will after weeks of torture (though the other still resisted). The Westfall Brigade in the Grizzly Hills had been scattered by the Silverbrook worgen under the command of the Shade of Arugal, which pleased him greatly. Soon there would be the attack on the Argent Vanguard from Scourgeholme.

And of course there was Jaina.

Initially the Lich King planned to let the val'kyr deal with her, but when the sorceress showed her great magical prowess and felled two of the powerful creatures before she unexpectedly turned back for the protection of the keep, clearly an intervention had to be staged. The remaining val'kyr, formidable as they were, would not be able to complete their task with their target safely in the midst of the six hundred soldiers stationed at Valgarde, and no time had there been to arrange for additional Scourge troops to assist them. Thus he'd ported himself in. Finding Jaina nearly to the keep with help quickly on the way, he'd created a deadly storm of lightening to destroy the Valgarde soldiers before raising them with ease from the dead to fight as his own, much like he had done years earlier to his own troops in Icecrown.

The place erupted into pandemonium as the defenders realized what was happening, and the Dragonflayer Clan, enticed by the noise coming from the nearby base, crept cautiously through the woods to see what was going on. Catching sight of the val'kyr and their "death god" assaulting the Alliance keep, the half-giants rallied with a horrible fervor and joined in the bloody fray. Shortly before the Vrykul entered the battle, the Lich King easily caught up with the weakened Jaina and seized her, porting them both back to Icecrown, leaving Valgarde to its fate.

As he'd looked upon her pale, lifeless face, memories rushed back in a torrent: their days in Dalaran, their first kiss, how she swore she'd never deny him anything, the Winterveil celebration he'd ended their romantic relationship, the night they'd rekindled it as they searched for the cause of the plague five years later, the day she'd betrayed him at Stratholme and then refused to go to Northrend with him, all of the things she had _denied_ him despite her promise. Despite swearing to forget her – she had failed him and he wouldn't harbor feelings for such a person – when he was the Lich King's Champion, his love for Jaina plagued him up until his ascension to the Frozen Throne. Why, just minutes before his battle with Illidan, Kael'thas even unsettled him with talk of her:

"_She tasted sweet when I kissed her, Kael. She –"_

"_Loathes you now. You sicken and disgust her, Arthas. Anything she felt for you has since turned to hatred."_

Luckily his merging with Ner'zhul ended those petty emotions. Or so he'd thought. Although he'd destroyed the orc's spirit and took the shaman's consciousness as a part of his own, his own consciousness reigned dominant over the two, and the memories of the mortal Arthas Menethil, it would seem, were not so easily forgotten. For seven long years he'd dreamed and planned for the downfall of Azeroth but in the back of his mind he'd never forgotten those who had betrayed him on his journey. Especially not the woman who'd deceived him with her "love" and then crushed him with the truth of her deception.

He watched her in Kalimdor, saw her found and rule over Theramore while holding relative peace with nearby Durotar. He'd watched as she'd let her father die for the sake of peace. And he'd sensed her ridiculous affection for that so-called "Warchief" of the Horde, the very same orc slave he'd watched fight in the gladiatorial pits as a young man. He knew all of these things. And they further stoked his ire towards her.

His heart, what he believed to be the last vestige of his humanity, had been torn out and tossed away long before, but in the end it was merely a physical organ. Passion, emotion - physical qualities these were not and therefore harder to destroy, especially those of the former Prince of Lordaeron. Petty vendettas and distractions such as his hatred for Jaina were useless in the greater scheme of things, but this one simply would not let up. She alone kindled such obsession, such personal fury. With this woman under his control and properly dealt with the rage, the rage that (he grudgingly acknowledged) long covered anguish so conveniently, would vanish.

Forgetting the memories, the Lich King eyed her up and down. Her hair was longer than he remembered, her frame a bit more filled out under the shoddy brown robe she wore, but there was no mistaking that strong jaw, the small mouth, the regally sloping nose.

One of his gauntleted fingers traced a rough pattern on the unconscious woman's cheek. "You are mine, Jaina," he'd muttered monotonously, "and you deserve every second of what I'm going to put you through." A sneer crossed his lips and he called for his death knights to take her away. "You will know the true meaning of vengeance."

The woman, turned over to a squadron of Death Knights, hadn't woken and he hadn't seen her since. He figured he'd give her some time to and reflect on her situation a bit before paying her a visit long overdue.

A wave of consciousness flowed through her. Rising from the shadows, she was vaguely aware of voices. Voices only however; there were no words. Her right arm stung and burned. More voices. Something cold placed on her arm dulled the pain for a few precious seconds before the throbbing increased tenfold. From far away she heard a cry, perhaps her own, and jerked the injured arm over her chest to protect it. Or tried to. Someone or something gripped it and wouldn't let up. More voices, more pain. Jaina slipped back under the wave, greeted by the peaceful dark.

It was cold. Very cold. Slowly coming to once more, she found herself lying curled up on her left side, greeted only by silence. Her head felt light from whatever she'd been drugged with while they – whoever _they_ were – worked on her arm. The limb still throbbed, and she gingerly inspected it, surprised that she could move it and unnerved by the rough stitches and swollen flesh; the bone had been healed but the broken skin had simply been stitched back together. Why wasn't it healed as well?

The small room reeked of saronite. She could make out a door in one of the black walls, dim light peeking from under it. Chains hung from all four walls, and to her horror what appeared to be scratch marks adorned the spaces surrounding them. A bucket of what was hopefully water sat nearby but other than that the place was barren and dismal with evil rife in the air. _Evil…_

Forcing her brain to cooperate, Jaina recalled what happened before she went unconscious. The girl from Valgarde. The val'kyr. No, not just the val'kyr – the val'kyr, _servants of the Lich King_. Dismayed, she instantly knew who this miserable prison belonged to, and panic set in. It took all of her will power for a few desperate seconds to not jump up and scream to be let out and bang on the walls, but the initial terror passed and her rational mind calmed her as she began to assess the situation.

What a fool she'd been, believing herself safe alone for a few days! But how could _he_ have known she'd be in the Howling Fjord? She had gone so discreetly and no one had known!

The urge to blame Rhonin for her situation was strong but she knew it was ultimately her own fault. _Perhaps _his _spies are more apt than we thought,_ she grumbled to herself. _But I should have known better to begin with. Like a foolish little girl I've gone and gotten myself into a fine mess! I've got to get out of here!_

Of course the door was locked. Cautiously she tried teleporting out, only to find a sort of anti-teleportation barrier surrounding the area as she'd expected.

_Trapped._

Pulling herself into a sitting position, she hugged her knees to her chest in a bid to warm herself. If there had been wood or anything flammable in the room she would have used her magic to create a fire. Her magic! At least she still had that! True, the evil in this place seemed to dampen it a little but she discovered she could still summon her elementals and draw fire from her fingertips. She was fairly confident that she could escape this room if given the chance. Perhaps she could overpower anyone who came through the door with her magic and run, find where the barrier ended, and teleport the hell away from there, but unfortunately she knew nothing of the layout of the prisons in Icecrown – surely this was Icecrown as she couldn't imagine it being any place else – and it was entirely possible she'd get lost and recaptured by Light-knew what kinds of creatures lurked in this place.

Her mind began to wander. Jaina Proudmoore never had been a woman to scare easily, but she couldn't deny her fear now. More specifically she was afraid to see _him_, what he had become. And surely the creature would come to her, most likely to strike through her emotions and attempt to turn her against the what was probably the millionth time in the past seven years she wondered if he wasn't still Arthas. A defiled and disturbed Arthas but Arthas nevertheless. Perhaps she of all people could reach him – no! There was no Arthas now, simply the shell of his body that the Lich King housed himself in. Why couldn't she accept that after all these years?

Sighing, Jaina lay back down, careful to keep any pressure off of her aching arm. _Nothing to do now but wait._


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Everything in this story belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. There will be spoilers for _Arthas: Rise of the Lich King_.

**The Shadows Grow Longer**

Chapter Five

During the seven years the Lich King dreamed, his minions constructed the entirety of Icecrown's defenses. The three "gates" of protection were top priority, these being Mord'rethar: The Death Gate, Aldur'thar: The Desolation Gate, and Corp'rethar: The Horror Gate. Angrathar the Wrath Gate which denied access to the citadel from Dragonblight was built was well, and the Shadow Vault at the tip of Northrend, the Cathedral of Darkness, and the Fleshwerks among others, along with Icecrown Citadel itself, also counted in the construction.

This last constituted the heart of the Lich King's domain. Imposing enough on its own, the top layer of the citadel consisted of huge blade-like towers and massive ramparts that obscured the bleak skyline, but it was below that the true horrors of the place lay. Deep into the fissure above the Frozen Throne, great chambers, bridges, vaults, and other subterranean edifices had been carved by the Scourge, creating an entire fortress underground made solely of ice and saronite that stretched beyond the pinnacle and Corp'rethar towards Aldur'thar to the north.

Around Icecrown Citadel lay the wretched Forge of Souls and the Pit of Saron where captured Horde and Alliance prisoners were forced to mine saronite for their captors or else be murdered and reanimated in undeath. The inside of the actual citadel consisted of several mysterious levels, their purpose and denizens unknown to the Alliance and Horde, with the Frozen Throne itself sitting safely at the top level.

Under the mountains east of the pinnacle, a wretched vault loosely deemed "the dungeon" had been carved. Prisoners of all sorts, ranging from Argent Crusaders too wounded to work in the Pit of Saron to living Vrykul found useless by the Scourge, inhabited this dismal area which resembled a slaughterhouse more than a prison. In this dank place devoid of light, weak torches lit the otherwise black hallways.

Filled cages and cells lined the walls. Many of the prisoners in them were missing limbs or endured grievous injuries left untreated. Various body parts lay carelessly where they had been thrown, sometimes collected to be taken to the Fleshwerks but more often than not left simply to freeze where they lay. Blood stained the walls. Instruments of torture, vats of poisons and acid, and other terrible devices resided in many of the rooms, handled by all sorts of vile Scourge torturers and "scientists."

It was here Jaina had been thrust after her arrival.

Upon her awakening, an eerie silence lay over her cell for some time and she assumed that she'd been taken to an isolated area. The first cries made her jump, and the hair on her arms stood up as the voices increased in volume and even more sounds, all howls and moans of people or creatures in great pain, joined the first to create a cacophony of noise that split her eardrums.

Disturbed deeply by the muffled screams emanating from all around, the empathic Jaina practically felt the pain of the sufferers. Her heart ached and the air itself felt like agony as she breathed and wondered what tormented those poor souls so; almost certainly they were being tortured although she wasn't sure how or why. They were probably prisoners from various factions being tortured for information, she surmised. This realization coupled with the freezing cold and piercing darkness in her cell brought on the greatest despair she'd known thus far in her ordeal, and she vowed she would find a way to get the hell out of there and free the victims whose voices tormented her.

At first she'd kept her mind alert, reciting anything she could think of: formulas, magical properties, mathematics, etc. The situation regarding Ulduar often came to mind, and the constant battle between the Warsong Outriders and the Silverwing Sentinels (one of the things that exasperated Thrall so) as well as various politics regarding Theramore, but she found it difficult to concentrate on such matters for very long since they only served to remind her of her current situation. As time slogged along her brain numbed and she spent hours at a time in a daze. Fleeting memories of her happy youth flitted through her mind, and she couldn't help but recall Arthas' part in them.

Arthas. How ironic she'd thought of him several times over the past few days and even spoken of him to someone! Beforehand she had spoken of him to no one these past years, afraid her feelings would make her an object of ridicule; she couldn't deny that she still loved the person he'd been. In truth she'd never had a chance to properly grieve her loss so busy had she been with Theramore and its politics and wars in the past years, and such matters kept her heartache concealed under the heavy blanket of duty.

Once or twice when the weather turned ugly and her mind drifted to her old love, she'd discreetly brought up the subject of him with Aegwynn, hoping for some sympathy and advice, but when the subject was touched upon it always turned into conversation regarding the Lich King, not Arthas himself as Jaina intended. Of course Aegwynn couldn't have known the person Arthas had been – she knew him only as the Lich King – and Jaina couldn't fault her for that, but her chamberlain wasn't the only one to act in such a way. Indeed the entire world seemed to have forgotten the noble man Arthas once was save Jaina.

Instead of the Lich King, the death knight, the remorseless killer, Jaina remembered Arthas Menethil as a mischievous young boy who loved animals – she remembered the pure pain in his eyes whenever he spoke of the death of his beloved horse Invincible even as a teenager – and who snuck out to spend time among his future subjects, walking and speaking freely with them, his passion for Lordaeron's people showing even at that early age. She remembered stealing like thieves around Dalaran with him as teenagers, kissing in the shadows as their love for each other grew; not only was he her lover but her best friend as well, the only person she felt truly understood her. He respected her ambition, studies, and shy nature but easily brought out her fun-loving side, a feat not easily accomplished.

_It feels like I haven't shown that side of myself for the past eight years,_ she thought ruefully._ It's always been politics, war, and more politics. Even when I'm with Thrall, that's usually the subject._

A horrible longing filled her, and her heart ached anew as she realized once more that she'd lost the man she loved and wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

Trembling, her body straightened as she recalled the first time she'd been intimate with Arthas, the heat from his body against hers, the way he'd kissed her as though he were drowning and she air, the feel of his large hands on her hips…she could almost feel him with her here now.

Ultimately Arthas' dedication to his people caused his downfall. But didn't anyone realize that he had truly thought the massacre at Stratholme was the only way to save its citizens from a fate worse than death? And he'd only been human in taking up Frostmourne. He'd simply wanted to save and avenge his people and the sword appeared the only way to do so…

_Arthas is only doing what he believes is right._

_Commendable as that may be, his passions will be his undoing._

Excessive passion. Arthas' fatal flaw. And now look at what he became, or rather how he ceased to be. Oh, why hadn't they listened to Medivh before it was too late?

She was about to face her past head on and she knew she wasn't at all prepared.

Not far from Jaina's small cell was an identical room, carved from the ice using saronite supports with no openings other than the door. A soft red glow flickered against the icy walls as several pots with boiling liquids – heated by fires that had to be constantly stoked so they would not go out entirely – occupied the wall opposite the door. Pinchers, tongs, knives and all sorts of fearsome paraphernalia were strewn about, some heating in the pots while others lay upon tables. Bloody hooks and chains hung from the ceiling. Amid these horrors, a leather bed rested in the room's center.

This bed was not unoccupied. A middle age woman lay helpless there, strapped to it by leather thongs. Her left foot had curled into a misshapen club, bruised and bloodied, and burns and brandings covered her face; she winced as her tears dripped down her cheeks. Her throat burned from screaming. Although the poor thing was almost naked, scraps of clothing left on her bore several insignia, betraying her status as an officer.

An undead man with a protruding jaw, the torturer assigned to her, stood next to her. He snickered and twirled a hammer in his hand casually.

"It will only get worse, my dear, if that tongue of yours doesn't start moving." Clearly his efforts thus far had been for nothing. "I'm prepared to begin dismembering you piece by piece. Now, I ask again: what of the Argent Crusade?"

"F-Fordring…"

"I'm listening."

"H-he's amassing…" her voice faded away again.

"Come now, I don't have all day."

"H-he's…" She shrieked as her tormenter brought the hammer down cruelly on several fingers. Writhing in agony as her broken hand went lifeless, the wretched creature sobbed, her black hair sticking to her fair face by tears, sweat, and blood. "Planning an offensive against Scourgeholme in f-four days!" she cried.

"There's the answer I was looking for." The torturer smiled and wiped her hair away from her face. "Was that really so hard? Now how many soldiers does he have?"

"Not…sure…" gasped the woman. "Several hundred? A thousand? Not…sure…"

"Surely you can do better than that."

"You're right," a horrifying voice boomed from the doorway. "She can do better than that." Piercing cold filled the room as the Lich King entered with several val'kyr at his side.

The captive's eyes widened at the sight of him and her entire body went dead. Never did she think that the leader of the Scourge would get personally involved in her torturous interrogation. And she was correct to a degree as he rarely ventured to the dungeon, coming only when a very high ranking prisoner had been captured; unluckily for her this was one of those times, and as he'd made his way through the long hallways towards his final destination, the screams of this particular Crusader had attracted him enough to pay her a visit.

Arthas eyed the battered female. "Fordring has two thousand troops stationed at the Argent Vanguard, I believe. They attack Scourgeholme in two days. What do you say to that?"

"Y-yes, s-sir, two days… the Valley of Echoes…" Petrified, the woman groaned and made no attempt to lie.

The undead man sighed in disappointment as his prisoner's deceit was revealed. "And here I thought we were getting somewhere. Now where did I put that axe?"

"Don't bother." The Lich King drew forth Frostmourne and approached the gurney as the torturer retreated with respect. "Our spies already have all the information we need on the upcoming attack. Highlord Fordring will certainly be in for a surprise." Leaning over the captive, his eyes chilling her to the core, he hissed, "Useless."

"N-no, I…!" The woman dug through her memory, desperate for any information that might save her. "Theramore…Durotar… Mulgore…s- sending in reinforcements disguised as Crusaders to help."

Oh yes, he knew all about this; something _very _interesting to prod Jaina about later. Not bothering to mock the frantic prisoner for her useless attempt at salvation as he often did, he simply informed her, "You will be in the front lines of my army when we strike."

"NO!" The woman thrashed wildly as a grinning Arthas lay Frostmourne across her throat. "I'LL DO ANYTHING! DON'T-"

With a wet _ring_, Frostmourne slit the woman's esophagus. Gurgling noises came from her chest and her green eyes took on a distant, glassy look as blood washed down the front of her body in a torrent. A light blue energy swirled out of her chest into the gleaming blade as Arthas mentally chanted an incantation, trapping her soul. The body then decayed within seconds, the flesh and limbs withering and twisting in an unnatural manner; soulless black eyes with no eyelids replaced the green ones and the rest of the deformed corpse developed a reddish hue.

"Arise," commanded Arthas, "and serve your master." Necromantic blue energy poured from his fingers into the ghoul, gluing its joints together and forcing it back to life.

The miserable creature lay stupefied for a moment before tearing itself free from its bonds and crawling onto the floor, hissing and moaning as it stumbled out the door into the darkness of the hallway.

The Lich King turned to the torturer.

"Work on another," he demanded, "and acquire some useful information this time."

"Yes, Master, of course." The undead man dropped his axe and headed off into the same hallway as the ghoul, preparing to drag another prisoner out of his cage for interrogation.

Arthas continued down the hallway with his undead escort. It was time to pay Jaina a visit. Much to his frustration she'd occupied his thoughts like a bad headache all day long no matter what he did to distract himself. The memory of holding her in his arms the day before, feeling her lovely pale face and familiar slender body possessed him; it was almost as though he felt an emotion forsaken along with countless others once he'd merged with Ner'zhul.

_Lust_.

It unsettled him. Clearly she was a weakness if she could stir _any _of those deserted emotions, and he knew he should kill her on the spot and raise her as a banshee while he had the chance… but the part of him that had been Prince Arthas Menethil wouldn't give her up so easily.

Hatred, rage bubbled within as he recalled her turning from him at Stratholme and all the times she'd sworn she loved him more than anything else when she clearly had not. The memories still burned. Simply killing her would not sate his appetite for vengeance. She would suffer as she deserved for toying with him – what would be the fun in turning her into another mindless minion? And eventually she would endure the ultimate punishment, the ultimate irony: turning against her beloved Alliance and serving the being she hated the most. The thought of that was too perfect.

Her strong energy signature easily led the way to her cell. The Death Knights guarding it unlatched the door and backed away respectfully as they saw their master approach.

Jaina too felt him coming – that evil aura was undeniable – and her heart nearly stopped when she heard the _clink _of the door unlocking.

"Oh!" she whispered to herself. "It is him!" Sudden panic overwhelmed the usually calm woman. Leaping to her feet, she ran from corner to corner of the small room like a caged animal, desperately attempting to teleport. How could she bear to see his corrupted, twisted body or meet the diabolical fiend who now inhabited it, the warped spirits of the orc shaman and her former lover combined? She couldn't do it! Curse Ner'zhul who'd sent Arthas down that wretched path, curse Kil'Jaeden, curse the world -

No! No, she would not despair in such a way now. She would remain calm as she always did. The years that passed since the faithful day Arthas set out for Northrend had been instrumental in shaping the person she was now. Any conversation about to take place would be engaged by Jaina Proudmoore, Archmage and ruler of Theramore, not by Jaina Proudmoore, twenty two year old apprentice to Antonidas and lover of Arthas Menethil. No use denying that the events from eight years ago still disturbed her, but she had since learned to conduct herself as a leader and could easily hide any personal emotion threatening to slip in with the neutral mask she'd learned to put on during political discussions. She would need that mask more than ever now, and she knew it.

Outside the Lich King telepathically instructed the val'kyr who accompanied him to remain outside with the guards; this moment was to be savored by him and him alone. Much as he'd thrown the doors to his father's throne room open eight years earlier and marched inside, his plate boots mercilessly pounding the ground, did he pitch the cell door open and enter.

The noise of the door being thrown open caused Jaina to jump, but then she stilled, riveted to the ground as though a frost spell had stopped her dead in her tracks, while the hulking figure took a few more ear-splitting steps inside.

Time itself stood still as the two looked upon each other for the first time in years.

Squaring her shoulders, Jaina raised her chin, her cold blue eyes silently appraising the dark form that stood far too close for comfort. The accursed rune-blade Frostmourne hung at his side against the horrible black armor, and the glowing cerulean pools that occupied the space once held by irresistible blue-green eyes seared into her own. She could make out the familiar shape of his face inside the wicked helm.

Arthas, eager to gauge her reaction further, slowly removed his helm. Undeath – for he was truly undead now although he'd never actually died – was evident in his features for his skin was a dull gray, his long, dirty hair unnaturally white, and there were harsh lines and creases all over his face, marks of someone much older than he truly was. Deep black circles ran under his eyes, if they could even be called eyes.

For several long moments neither moved; had someone entered upon the scene and seen them, they very well might have been mistaken for two statues staring each other down.

It would have been easier for her if he'd truly looked like the monster he'd become, but despite the unpleasant details of his face and the grime, there was Arthas standing before her plain as day, just as he had eight years prior.

Her heart surged. Her resolve faltered slightly. The desire to yell at him, to claw at his face, to cry in rage stirred her.

How could Arthas, her kind-hearted, noble Arthas, have turned into such a creature? He should have seen it coming, should have seen that going to Northrend was a trap! The fool! She'd tried to warn him and he'd gone anyway, that bastard! Feelings long pent up rose into her throat. She longed to confront him immediately and ask how he could have turned into the very thing he'd sworn to protect his people against! But this creature was not Arthas, she remembered, simply his body. Arthas himself was dead.

The guilt surged in along with the anger as she looked upon that familiar form. She had turned her back on Arthas at Stratholme, left him alone when he'd needed her the most. She'd failed him, failed those people, failed herself. Could she have prevented all of the death and destruction simply by staying at his side, by saying something different? By porting him the hell out of there before he began the slaughter and his descent into darkness? Where would they be now if she had? He would still be alive, that was certain. Would they be happily married with those lovely fair-haired children she'd thought of so often? Forget her personally; where would _the world _be if she had? Not under attack by the Lich King as he was now, at least.

He could tell she was unnerved despite the brave attempts to hide her emotion, and this gave him great satisfaction. How very wonderful it was to finally have her here before him, trapped and forced to confront the past head on.

What seemed like an eternity passed as Jaina waited for the Lich King to make the first move as was her custom, but he did not speak. He did not move. He simply watched her with those eerie glowing eyes of his. She decided to put an end to the unbearable silence.

"Well, you certainly ruined a perfectly good vacation," she said coolly, searching for words. "May I ask exactly why I've been dragged here?"

To her irritation he laughed. "A vacation? So that's what the famous Jaina Proudmoore was doing alone in the wilderness. Really, Jaina, not even one guard? Surely you are smarter than that."

The familiar voice made her heart leap both in joyful recognition and in terror; it was that same clear baritone she'd heard eight years ago yet now it was underscored by a deeper and far more menacing tone.

"I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself when the odds aren't completely against me. Guards were not needed."

"Guards wouldn't have saved you anyway. As you might have noticed, not even an entire garrison could do that."

Fear for the others at the fort stirred her heart.

"What happened at Valgarde?" she quietly demanded.

"Very tragic," he sneered. "Most of the defense perished as they tried to aid you when the Vrykul attacked unexpectedly. I'm sure the Alliance will have to waste plenty of valuable resources to rebuild its base and replace the soldiers who now serve in _my_ army. To think, all that trouble over one woman."

"You were clearly lying in wait for me. Nothing could have been done to stop it." Jaina fixed the Lich King with a look of contempt. "Now why am I here?"

"Do you really think I wouldn't seize the opportunity to capture a leader of the Alliance if given the chance, even unexpectedly? I'll admit I wasn't expecting to find you at the Howling Fjord but unluckily for you I did."

"If you are planning to use me as a hostage, you can forget it. My allies will not negotiate with you under any circumstance."

"Oh, that is hardly what I have planned for you."

Her voice lowered. "Perhaps you seek to manipulate me then, to break me down using my former feelings for Arthas so I will join you and your Scourge. If that's the case, you are sorely mistaken in regards to my resolve. Despite the fact that his body 'lives' on, I know as well as you that the man I loved is dead. He's been dead for the past seven years. Things have changed. I know only love for my people now."

"Do you?"

"Yes. My heart is steadfast –"

"Is it?"

Annoyed at the interruption she started again. "I only serve Theramore and the Alliance, and we stand strong. Do with me what you will, but like all past threats to this world, you will not hold before the peoples of Azeroth. Your reign over the world will end even before it begins."

"Will it?"

"Will you stop answering with those infernal questions?"

"Will I?" He laughed. "You were always fun to play with, Jaina. Always so serious."

This unnerved her and the line of her mouth turned downwards slightly. _Of course he retains Arthas' memories_. _And just as I thought, he's going to use them to attack me._

Steadying herself for an emotional onslaught, Jaina set her jaw and spoke again. "As the ruler of Theramore –"

"Don't parade your pathetic title in front of me," he snarled, suddenly angry. "I've watched you playing ruler over your little settlement. What an interesting turn of events since we last met, the woman who simply wanted to study leading a colony. You're only deluding yourself, really. You are no leader."

This was not the first time she'd heard someone say that she wasn't fit to rule, and she bristled.

"And of course I know you would never willingly betray the Alliance. I'm no fool. But still, you _are_ the weak link of the faction leaders, the kink in the chain." He leered and stepped forward. "You love me still, or love the person I was rather. Don't deny it," he snapped as she opened her mouth. "If I gave you the chance to destroy me right here and now, even if you were powerful enough to do it, you wouldn't."

"I–"

"You wonder if there is still a part of the man you loved inside of me that could perhaps be redeemed."

"No! I would kill you if I could; rid the world of your pestilence!" Jaina was livid. Her feet took a few bold steps forward. "You seek to intimidate me by pretending to be him, by manipulating my former relationship with him? Go ahead and try. I know you are not Arthas."

So she believed what most of Azeroth did. This was going to be entertaining.

"What am I then?"

She studied him intently. "They say Ner'zhul's spirit merged with the hollow shell that Arthas became. You are your own being, neither but both, the worst qualities of two evil spirits. Stop insulting me by pretending to be him. Your charade is useless. You are mostly Ner'zhul if anything, especially to me."

"Jaina, Jaina, have you ever considered the possibility that I really am Arthas?"

Her silence spoke volumes.

"You've been misled," the monster laughed. "All of Azeroth has been. I am Arthas still. When my soul merged with Ner'zhul and his spirit took residence alongside mine in my body, we never perfectly fused. Indeed his memories, his experience, his hatred became my own and vice versa; he planned for the two of us to work together, to share the two powers inside of this body." The Lich King clenched his fist, continuing, "But I share power with no one. Having taken all I needed from him, I overpowered and destroyed what was left of Ner'zhul's pure spirit. I retain his knowledge and memories alongside my own and I control them as my own. Ner'zhul himself exists no more. Only his _traits_ do, and they are under my power. I alone am the Lich King. There is no second party."

Dismayed, she stared at him. The strong posture of her shoulders wavered and her eyes widened. A conversation, an incident that took place about a year earlier between her and Aegwynn careened to the front of her mind.

_Can't you feel it? _Aegwynn had inquired, already knowing that the younger woman did. On that awful rainy day something had been in the atmosphere, something sinister and foreboding. Something desperately wrong. And both women, sensitive to energies as they were, instinctively knew it involved the Lich King. At one point they'd felt drained of life; Jaina had even dropped her teacup as her body went numb. An incredible sensation of _loss _rushed over her.

…_whatever's going on right now up in Northrend – and yes, I think something is going on – it's about Arthas, not the Lich King._

Her chamberlain's words haunted her as the pieces fell together. If what he just told her was indeed the truth, the strange occurrence suddenly made perfect sense…

Jaina was momentarily stunned. This creature… _was_ actually Arthas after all? A twisted, corruptedversion of Arthas enlightened by the evil of Ner'zhul, but Arthas nevertheless?

"I don't believe it… you… he…" she trailed off, unable to think straight. "No."

"You missed out on so much when you left me at Stratholme, Jaina. Perhaps if you hadn't betrayed me you too would know the beauty of having energy pour through your veins instead of blood, fuelled like a fire with souls as kindling. It is like nothing you can imagine, so glorious, so relentless. And I will have the world as my kingdom and arrange it as I will with no one to question me. I was so naïve for the first twenty three years of my life; I simply sought to rule as Terenas did and figured it was the only way. Yet Terenas could only rule over men through words, always fighting to hold a balance and pacify the majority while keeping the few dissenters at bay. _I_, on the other hand, rule through _minds_; no useless words are needed which ensures no mistakes, no betrayals, no opposition. It's perfection. A new era approaches. And, ironically enough, there will be your beloved peace when I'm finished."

As he watched her twist against the wall utter dejection, her lovely face contorted by hurt, Arthas felt a cruel desire to seize her in a death-grip and to drag her to him. His hand itched to squeeze her throat. He wanted to _feel_ her delectable pain, to clasp her shocked body against him, to feed on the fearful energy emanating from her, not unlike how the vampire bats of Tirisfal Glades suck blood out of prey.

"Peace!" she muttered, her fists clenching. "At the expense of turning the living into your mindless slaves!"

"What use is free will to the masses? It only guarantees conflict."

"I can't believe it! How could you?" Her tone turned furious, and she pointed an accusatory finger towards him. "Look at what you've become! The very thing you swore to fight against. Arthas! I told you not to go to Northrend! I warned you it was a trap!"

"No, Jaina. It wasn't a trap. It was destiny," he said passionately, starting towards her, "as was your ill-fated trip to the Howling Fjord."

His sudden movement frightened her; it was that of a tiger, coiled and powerful, ready to strike. Like a flash she leapt backwards, keeping maximum distance between them as she edged along the wall.

"Our past is nothing to me," she lied bravely. "Nothing you can do will make me turn from my–"

"You honestly think that is the reason I have brought you here?" He stopped advancing and grinned, moving along the wall as she circled him from the opposite side. "No. I intend to see you properly punished for what you did. For the last seven years nothing but vengeance has stirred me in regards to you, _my love_. You alone survive out of those who insulted me the greatest and you will suffer far more than the others. There are several grievances between us, you may recall. Old grudges die hard as they say."

In her mind's eye she could see the young girl, head turn down and eyes filled with tears, riding slowly away from a man whose iron countenance suddenly faltered as his brow furrowed and eyes widened in disbelief and hurt.

"_You swore you would never deny me, Jaina. But when I most needed your support, your understanding, you turned against me. And now you refuse to aid me. I'm going to Northrend, Jaina. I would have you with me. To help me stop this evil. Won't you come?"_

"I owe you nothing. If I had followed you at Stratholme, to Northrend –" she cut off, the bile rising in her throat. Oh, she'd thought of this plenty of times and still didn't know the answer. She did betray him at Stratholme. She betrayed all of those people by walking away. She'd even said she would rather die than be raised as Scourge at but she still refused to help. Was that right? Yes, it was the right thing; she couldn't decide the fates of other people for them… or should she have?

It didn't matter. What was done was done.

"Had I had gone with you things might well be very different now. If you are so happy in your current state why be angry over something that might have kept you from your _magnificent_ destiny?"

"It doesn't matter. A betrayal is a betrayal and a liar is a liar. You swore you would never deny me. You refused me aid when I needed you the most. And you will suffer as you made me suffer." A bitter laugh escaped him. "Uther the Lightbringer, King Terenas, Muradin: all traitors who deserved so much more than death for their deceptions. Surely you know their fates. That fool Muradin who tried to deny me Frostmourne: impaled by an ice shard in that very cave in which I claimed my destiny. Terenas-"

"Your father," Jaina whispered. "You murdered your father…"

"- Terenas nearly lost his head when I sliced through his trachea. You should have been there, Jaina. His body crumpling before the throne - MY throne - and the blood running down the steps in rivers; it was magnificent! How Frostmourne sang! And of course Uther died on his knees as he deserved, bleeding before me like a pathetic animal."

"At least you granted him a fighting chance! Your father wasn't so lucky."

"A father! A father by blood only, the old fool. But you! I truly loved you, making your deceit all the more painful. I would have given you the world, and you threw it all away. It was your betrayal that affected me the most, even as a death knight, even as I am now. The blood of the other three stains the earth, but there was no time to see to you, Jaina. You escaped my initial return from Northrend and fled to Kalimdor and I had far more important matters to see to at the time rather than hunt you down. So I watched you in dreams for seven long years. I waited. The delay in justice continued for far too long, but today it ends. I have you now. And I will have you suffer, hold you while you writhe in disgust at the hands of the very being you betrayed, torment you beyond imagining… You will not have the luxury of simply dying as the others did."

Jaina shrank against the wall, desperate to escape.

"I loved you once," Arthas reiterated coolly, disgusted by the memories but determined to force her to remember, to accept what was. "I remember feeling you, wanting you, needing you. Not even Ner'zhul's feelings for his mate matched mine for Jaina Proudmoore. And you betrayed me still." Donning his helm, he again strode mercilessly towards her. The look on his face was terrible.

Fire crackled in the mage's hands.

"Stay back," she warned, beginning to pool energy to fan the flames in her palms. Her powers, strong as they were, could not defeat him and she knew it but she'd be damned if she wouldn't protect herself as best she could.

He didn't stop but raised a hand; simultaneously her body chilled, all power draining. Summoning her own frost powers, she tried to resist the assault only to have him cut her off with a powerful mind freeze. Her spells fizzled. Harboring dulling flames, her hands dropped to her sides, and her legs threatened to crumple as they numbed. Her brain refused to work, something that rarely happened to Jaina Proudmoore and which frightened as well as disoriented her, and it was all she could do to dumbly stare as the Lich King came close and seized her shoulder in an iron grip.

"None of that," he hissed, shaking her slightly.

Her mouth opened as though to speak but nothing came out.

"Shhh." His face softened as his other icy hand stroked her neck, chilling her to the bone. "Do you remember what it was like, Jaina?" he inquired, his breath swishing against her face. "I do." In actuality the memories were slightly distant to him and the emotions associated with them hazy and long unfelt. "You always smelled like peace bloom; I would cradle you in my arms as we lay together, still sweating, and the scent would assailed my nostrils as I rested my head on yours." He paused a moment and then continued to unsettle her, his eyes blazing even more intently than before. "I remember running my hand along your side and reveling in the feel of your soft skin and curves. You were a considerate lover; you always put my satisfaction above your own and I was hard-pressed to convince you to completely relax and allow me to pleasure you, especially the beginning. And I admit I loved giving you all of the attention I thought you deserved; when you'd gasp and writhe under me, crying my name over and over again, I'd feel as much fulfillment as I did during my own peak. You swore you would never deny me anything the first night we made love."

"_Don't deny me, Jaina. Don't ever deny me. Please."_

"_I never would, Arthas. Never."_

A silly, childish promise. But how was she to know what would happen?

The gentle stroking ceased as his hand curled around her neck. "And now you will aid me in crushing the Alliance and Horde. But you will not simply serve me. No, Jaina, you will never deny me anything again. You will even _love_ me more than any other, this time the way a dog loves its owner, a slave her master. You will be mine and mine alone in both body and soul. Consider it payment for your insults against me."

No longer could she deny that it was indeed him. A terrible, perverse version of the man she had once loved.

Closing her eyes, Jaina retreated into herself, unwilling to grant him the pleasure of seeing her tears.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Everything in this story belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. There will be spoilers for _Arthas: Rise of the Lich King_.

**The Shadows Grow Longer**

Chapter Six

The news couldn't have come at a worse time.

Thrall sat in Grommash Hold, troubled and brooding as the never-ending council with Varok Saurfang and Garrosh Hellscream dragged on.

"I tell you we cannot risk open war with the Alliance," Saurfang sternly admonished his charge. "Not with the Scourge looming so close nearby. Our numbers would be decimated along with those of the enemy, and the only gain would be the Lich King's as he would acquire free soldiers for the Scourge due to our folly."

"Pah! The Horde would crush the Alliance as well as the Scourge. It would do the world good to be rid of them both." Garrosh fumed. How was he supposed to live up to the Hellscream legacy if these idiots kept stepping in the way?

"We cannot fight both! The Alliance seeks to destroy the Lich King as we do, and it is the Lich King we shall focus on. Was it not yesterday that Warsong Hold was attacked by the lich Chillwinter? The Scourge poses a threat far greater than the Alliance at this point, young one."

Vol'jin shot Thrall a look that clearly said Hellscream was more trouble than he was worth. The Warchief stared at the shadowhunter, silently wondering if this was not beginning to be the truth. What if Garrosh could not be controlled? The meeting at the Violet Hold had been a disaster, partly because of him.

_What had happened to the brooding, depressed Garrosh I met in Nagrand_? Thrall wondered. It was almost as though once he learned of his father's fate and ultimate victory, Grom's son gained a wild confidence that orchestrated his every move. His strategies in Northrend were violent, savage, and uncontrolled, held in check only by Saurfang; Thrall himself had come to blows with the brown-skinned orc several times now and could hardly reason with him. If the Warchief himself could not control this newcomer, what message would that send to the Horde? To the Alliance? It was unsettling to think about.

And Thrall had enough to worry about already.

The Forsaken apparently had their own agenda, one that did not align with that of the rest of the Horde. Furious with Sylvanas, Thrall distrusted her more than ever. The banshee queen always had been a wild card; did she want revenge against the Scourge or both the Scourge and the living, regardless of faction? Although she claimed innocence in what happened at the Wrathgate, Thrall simply didn't believe she was stupid enough to allow such a plague to be created right under her very nose, and that made him uneasy.

Worst of all, the king of Stormwind had returned to claim his throne. When he'd first heard the news of Varian Wrynn's rescue, Thrall dared to hope that the human would be open to peace talks, and for a few fleeting moments it appeared that he was. The peace summit at Theramore had started off well enough with talk of putting past conflicts aside and looking towards the future with thoughts of mutual gain by working together; Varian offered Thrall lumber in an attempt to end the battles at Warsong Gulch, and in return Thrall promised Stormwind exotic animal hides, copper, silver, and other resources readily provided by the Barrens and Durotar.

Unfortunately the peace talks came to a grinding halt when the Twilight cult invaded the city and by some freak chance the half-orc female Garona, who had murdered Wrynn's father before the man's very eyes years before, arrived with them. The instant Varian espied her among the cultists he jumped to the conclusion that the Horde orchestrated the assault and sent her in to kill him. Negotiations violently concluded, Wrynn left for Stormwind vowing that he could never trust the monstrous orcs after what they had done to him over the years.

And then the disaster at Wrathgate and the Battle for the Undercity occurred…

As he watched Hellscream pacing about the room while Saurfang continued to rebuke the younger orc, Thrall wished that Jaina would return from Dalaran soon. Perhaps she would have some suggestions on how to harness the uncontrollable Hellscream. He recalled the last time they had met.

_The Undercity had been reclaimed for the Horde. Thrall could not deny the thrill he'd felt as he and Sylvanas slew the treacherous demon Varimathras and the Forsaken rebels while Vol'jin directed the artillery from the outside. What a battle it had been! A true victory for the Horde! But ultimately a bittersweet one as well, for when they went to deal with that traitor Putress the forces of the Alliance led by King Varian Wrynn arrived on the scene. _

_The human king threatened Thrall and Sylvanas and, having slain Putress and seen the horrors of Undercity for himself, proclaimed that the Forsaken had been planning to murder them all and that there would never be peace between the Alliance and Horde. Then he had the audacity to actually attack them! Fool! Did he not see that this was no time for petty faction squabbling? _

_Thrall had been prepared to crush the king's skull without regret, but luckily Jaina stopped the fight before it could even begin, teleporting Wrynn and the Alliance army back to Stormwind. Thrall couldn't help but smile at the thought. Good, coolheaded Jaina! Thank the spirits for her! As he wondered how Wrynn and the rest of the Alliance must have reacted to her intervention, his heart ached slightly; he knew there would be anger and possibly violence against her and prayed for the sorceress' safety._

_The battle for the Undercity thus concluded, Thrall bemoaned the loss of peace between the two factions. "It ends like it began. All that we have fought for in this world is lost. The hopes and dreams carried by my father and mother... by Doomhammer… gone...… if only you were here now, old friend. You would know what to do," he recalled himself saying aloud, thinking of Doomhammer._

_Then Varok Saurfang came to his side. "I know what he would do," the older orc had said. "He would say to you what I am about to say to you: Thrall, lead your people."_

_Saurfang was right. He had to lead his people no matter what. And so he would, to whatever end. But what if, despite everything he'd accomplished so far, he wasn't up for the job? He had not been watchful enough. _

_Thrall's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a blue portal that materialized from the air to his left. Jaina had arrived, late as usual (Thrall had come to expect that now), but as she emerged from her portal and stepped out onto the butte, surprise and dismay filled him as he realized she walked as though she were a million years old, hunched over and painfully slow. There was no smile on her face this time, just lines of worry and fatigue. _

_Did she doubt his leadership ability now? Blame him for what happened at the Wrathgate not three days earlier?_

_For a long moment they just stared at each other. There were no words to say. Then Jaina strode over and threw her arms around his neck. Accepting the embrace, Thrall wrapped his arms around her, careful as usual not to squeeze the woman too tightly least he break her. _

_Pulling away, Thrall looked down into her tired eyes. "Jaina… how could this have happened? How could this have happened? My own allies… I am a fool." _

"_No…you are not a fool, Thrall," she sighed. "How were you to know?"_

"_I should have known. Sent spies –"_

"_Spy on your own allies? Don't be ridiculous. You upheld your end of the alliance while Undercity did not. There was nothing you could have done. Don't blame yourself for what you cannot control." Ironic words coming from her, she knew. _

_Continuing she explained, "Varian Wrynn is in shock over the entire thing. I told you Bolvar was like a brother to him. His grief overwhelmed his rational mind. H-he actually thought that Lordaeron could be reclaimed for the Alliance! That man… he is like my father. He isn't looking at the bigger picture of things." _

"_And now he has all but declared open war against the Horde. Idiot!"_

_To his surprise Jaina defended Wrynn. "Try to understand him, Thrall. Varian has seen only betrayals and violence from Orcs. He watched his father's murder and then his city's destruction at the hands of the Old Horde. H-he didn't ever have a Taretha to show him the good of the other side," she said softly. "All he knows is the savagery." _

_Thrall frowned, considering this._

"_And then he lost his identity, became a slave, and his kingdom was nearly destroyed because of it. And what does he get once he's reestablished himself as king? He sees poor Bolvar murdered by the Forsaken rebels! That's enough to drive anyone to madness! Varian needs time to sort out his emotions but war hasn't allowed it. Remember my words when you are dealing with him." Her hand slowly reached forward and grasped his. "Please. For me."_

"_It certainly can't be blamed entirely on him. All of us have a fault in it." Thrall turned his eyes upwards to the sky. "I'm glad you were there to intervene. Who knows what would have happened next if you hadn't? Is the king furious with you?"_

"_He's not happy with me, that's for sure. But he's not clamoring to have me hanged for treason unlike some of the populace. The Alliance is eager for war against the Horde after what happened."_

"_I cannot blame them. It was a tragedy for both sides. We both lost good soldiers and there is much __cause for grief. But we cannot afford to let faction wars get in the way while the Lich King is amassing his army to destroy us all."_

"_I agree. I agree," she sighed wearily. And she kissed him._

Varian Wrynn lived a bitter, angry life, Thrall knew as he recalled Jaina's pleas on the man's behalf. The king had lost his family and almost his entire kingdom at the age of twelve due to the original Horde, and as if that weren't bad enough he'd only recently come out of captivity from the Crimson Ring's gladiatorial pens and recovered his true identity. Yes, the human had plenty to be angry about… but Thrall's life had been no cakewalk either and _he_ managed to overcome his dreadful past and could look past it and towards a peaceful future, putting personal grievances against humans aside for the good of his people. Why couldn't King Wrynn do the same?

As much as he wanted to completely blame the man for the hostilities at Theramore, Undercity, and the Violet Hold, the orcish leader could not deny his faction's own part in ruining the peace. Garrosh Hellscream who clearly wished to wipe the race of humans off of the face of the earth goaded the already embittered Wrynn every chance he got; perhaps Wrynn wouldn't have been so hasty to blame the Horde for Garona's presence at Theramore or to attack at the Violet Hold if Hellscream hadn't riled him so. Not to mention the Forsaken traitors at Wrathgate made the Horde look -

"I do not see why you would pass on an opportunity like this!" Garrosh slammed a fist against the map on the table, bringing Thrall back to the conversation at hand. "You have said yourself that we need shipping lanes! If we take Valgarde and claim it for the Horde before the Alliance has a chance to rebuild, we shall have not only a stronger hold in the Howling Fjord but a shipping lane as well."

"No," Thrall cut in, tired of this nonsense. "If we take the ruins of Valgarde and claim them for the Horde, what message will that send to the Alliance? The king of Stormwind does not need an excuse to declare war upon us just as we do not need to push our luck by intruding upon an Alliance held camp."

"That fool human has all but declared war on us already! You saw how he acted at the Undercity! At the Violet Hold!"

"Do not remind me! You goaded him on at the Violet Hold, Garrosh! You are as much to blame for that disaster as he if not more so. And what happened at Undercity was a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding? From what I heard he called us cowards, said it was time to rid the world of us! I say we rid the world of _him _instead!"

"You be makin' a big mistake, Garrosh," Vol'jin snapped. "You think reckless! Da Scourge will be crushin' us all if we create widespread war wit' da Alliance."

Saurfang nodded, saying, " Get the idea out of your head! We are not attacking Valgarde, no matter how vulnerable it is at the moment."

Thrall did not hear Garrosh's reply. A messenger from the Kirin Tor had just arrived from Dalaran bearing an urgent letter from Rhonin himself, one of the Kor'kron informed him discreetly and turned the letter over to him. Eager for the distraction, Thrall took his time opening it.

"Think of the consequences for once," Saurfang spat at Garrosh.

"Yah, mon. Da Horde –"

The Warchief again tuned out the conversation as he read his note.

_To the revered Warchief of Orgrimmar_

_Warchief Thrall,_

_It grieves greatly me to write you this news. Lady Jaina Proudmoore was visiting Valgarde Keep when the Scourge attacked and destroyed it two days ago and she hasn't been heard from since. The Kirin Tor is investigating the matter and I'm sure King Wrynn will be sending his own representatives to the Howling Fjord. I am of the opinion that the lady is not dead but captured, perhaps by the Dragonflayer Clan, and I know everything in our power will be done to ensure her safe return. For the time being Lady Proudmoore's chamberlain will be presiding over Theramore. Lady Proudmoore is an irreplaceable leader in our peace efforts as you know well, and I know the Horde will react as its leaders see fit. _

_Sincerely,_

_Rhonin of the Kirin Tor_

His stupefied brain took several seconds to confirm the news. Thrall stared at the paper in his hands as though the words written there would jump off of the page and bite him. _Jaina missing. Scourge attack._ In Thrall's mind there was only one rational conclusion and it sure as hell didn't involve simple Vrykul as Rhonin seemed to believe.

_It has happened! _He_ has abducted her! Stolen her from - _

"YOU are all the fools here!" snarled Garrosh, frustrated beyond belief that the others couldn't grasp his point of view. "If I were Warchief I would –"

Saurfang clenched his fists. "You are_ not_ Warchief, young Hellscream, and you'd better not forget that fact!"

At this point Thrall stood from his chair stoically, his eyes unseeing. The others turned to him and instantly recognized that something was terribly wrong as he struggled to hold back a torrent of emotions.

"What's wrong, my friend?" questioned Saurfang with concern.

"… Jaina Proudmoore. She was at Valgarde at Rhonin's request and hasn't been seen since the attack." His deep voice was flat.

Vol'jin's eyes widened. The Loa spirits had warned him of some impending disaster during his daily ritual not two days ago, and he wondered if this was the tragedy they had spoken of but hesitated to speak about the matter in front of Garrosh. He would wait until he could speak privately with Thrall.

"Bad business indeed, mon," said the troll sadly. He glanced at the Warchief. "Couldn't 'a been helped."

"We should make contact with Theramore at once." Thrall hardly recognized his own voice.

Garrosh stared at Thrall, irritated by his words. "Contact with Theramore?" he snorted. "What? This is a perfect opportunity! We should attack Theramore now while it is leaderless, not contact it! We can gain control of the entirety of southern Kalimdor –"

"Garrosh! Are you insane? Break our promise? After all we've achieved? Unlike the Horde of old, we have no interest in conquest or murder!" Saurfang fairly shouted.

A new argument began, but Thrall was not thinking of Garrosh now. He was thinking of Jaina.

Jaina Proudmoore was the only person in Azeroth who glimpsed all of him. Around her he was not simply the unflappable Warchief of the Horde; no, he was _Thrall_ in his entirety, able to reveal his fears and concerns as well as his gentle, joyful side with no fear of ridicule or disdain.

What started as a hesitant friendship after Hyjal developed into something bigger. As the barrier lifted between them, they ceased to only speak of possible solutions to diplomatic issues or to gently argue as they sometimes did when they didn't exactly see eye-to-eye with one another, and snippets of more personal conversation slipped into their words. Their problems would suddenly melt away as they sat together under the beautiful blue sky of the Barrens and spoke of their past experiences and their hopes and dreams for the future, and it pleased him beyond words that she looked past racial differences in the name of friendship.

He slowly learned about the person behind the diplomatic façade and loved what he found: a shy, studious woman who instinctively knew how to read people and their intentions. A woman who put her own needs aside and dedicated herself to the greater good of the world, but also a woman who, like any other human being, harbored insecurities and vulnerabilities. Thrall learned about her past as an apprentice of Antondias and, inevitably, about her very serious relationship with Arthas; Jaina swore that she hardly thought of her old flame anymore but the pained look in her eyes as she spoke told him differently. Pity for the woman filled him in such moments… but to his surprise he had also felt relieved for reasons he dared not admit to himself.

Likewise Jaina learned of his past, his time as a gladiatorial slave, his friendship with Taretha, and countless other matters that involved him; truly he had experienced more in his young life than most orcs would in several lifetimes, and the fortitude and bravery which remained within him despite his many horrible struggles impressed the sorceress.

As the meetings grew in frequency, a new factor shyly entered upon the scene. It revealed itself slowly, starting as a simple touch on the arm or a fleeting glance between the two, but evolved into holding hands without fear and gazing fully into each other's faces. Thrall would find himself thinking of her touch when he was back in Orgrimmar when his focus should have been elsewhere, and he almost wished that she would not touch him so gently.

Almost.

The first kiss came as a complete surprise. As they leaned against the plateau rocks to gaze up at a star-lit sky after a long political discussion, her hand pressing firmly on the top of his as usual, Jaina had shyly told him that she knew no one as wonderful and thoughtful as he in _any_ race. Touched, Thrall turned and gazed into her bright eyes.

"I don't believe I could receive a finer compliment from anyone, Jaina," he informed her sincerely. "Thank you."

"It's true," she affirmed. "There is no one else like you. You are like a diamond; beautiful, unique, and rare. I never want to lose you."

He'd begun to tease her about comparing an orc to a diamond when she smiled, leaned forward, and tenderly kissed his forehead; the action stunned him to such a degree that he almost pulled away. His body trembled and he found his hand tightening on hers.

Jaina looked deeply into his eyes, unflinching, and lowered her head to press her lips against his, her cheeks brushing his tusks. And he had known then that she too felt more than just a warm friendship between them.

Things escalated from there although they still kept their relationship a secret for obvious reasons. They were not intimate, not yet; Thrall hesitated for fear he might hurt her with their physical differences, and for now just seeing and speaking to each other when at all possible was more than enough pleasure for both of them. However not even the spirits knew what the future might bring…

Now the woman he cared for was gone, almost certainly captured by the Lich King, a part of whom had been her former fiancé. The thought unsettled Thrall but what could he do? No matter his feelings for Jaina, his people came first, and he very much doubted that, despite the peace treaty with Theramore and the alliance at Hyjal, most of them would support wasting resources and, more importantly, lives to search for and rescue a leader of the Alliance. The rest of the Horde would feel the same way with the Blood Elves and Forsaken in particular speaking against it.

Still, it was _Jaina_. He couldn't fail to protect her as he'd failed to protect Tari. He had to do something. The Warchief longed to charge headfirst into Icecrown – surely that was where she'd been taken – himself but for the time being that was out of the question.

First and foremost Thrall decided it wise to contact Rhonin to see what the Alliance was planning to do regarding the matter. Tirion Fordring would need to be informed at once; perhaps through the Argent Crusade Thrall could help Jaina. Aegwynn would also need to be contacted.

_Stay strong against him, Jaina. Help is on the way._

The fool had tried to be strong and failed, failed within a few minutes. As a turtle curls into its shell when poked at by a predator, she'd frozen and withdrawn from reality. How pathetic. But it was ultimately predictable as well; the shattering revelation she just experienced would put any weak mortal into shock, he supposed. Out of an eagerness to study her further rather than pity, he allowed her to remain still, not bothering to shake or slap her out of her stupor.

The physical changes were even more evident than when he'd looked her over previously. No longer the fresh faced twenty two year old he remembered, Jaina Proudmoore clearly had been through more than most thirty year old women. Her face, while still pleasant to look upon, betrayed the sorrow and stress she'd experienced over the years with pronounced lines that creased under her eyes enhancing the overall tired appearance of her skin. Although she was still in outstanding physical shape, his critical eyes noted the slight thickening of her waist and the fullness of her hips that hadn't been present before.

Her clothes were drab and scraggly, a far cry from the regal robes she'd always worn.

As he looked over the small figure that ignited such hatred still, Arthas felt a surge of power rush through him. He reveled in the fact that he had her. No longer would he be haunted by the past! Now that he was the master of this woman, the one who had hurt him the most as a mortal, the one who troubled him still even as the Lich King, he truly was the most powerful being in the world. Nothing and no one would hinder him now.

His hand loosened on her neck and he released her from his ice sorcery.

She staggered backwards into the wall, dazed and desperately trying to control her emotions. Her limbs slowly recovered from the freeze, tingling sensations stirring on her skin. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably, and she lifted her heavy arms and attempted to wrap them around her middle in a bid to warm herself. Her eyes remained closed.

_This is a dream_, she repeated to herself numbly. Grief and pain long covered by politics and duty spread through her shocked body. Her heart was torn asunder. _This isn't real. This isn't happening. How can this be happening? Arthas…_

No remnants of the visage she'd put on as ruler of Theramore moments before could be seen. At the moment she was simply a woman in terrible shock and hurt. No possible way she could pretend to be anything else, and she found herself not caring. His too-close-for-comfort presence suddenly stirred her, and she felt as though she'd explode at any second if he didn't disappear right then and there. A wave of despair overcame her. She had to get away from him. Jaina's eyes snapped open, and she startled as one waking from a dream. Her gaze lifted to the black saronite ceiling of her prison for a moment before shifting to the Lich King and then to the door that lay beyond him.

With a burst of force she channeled her energy and blinked as quickly as a lightning bolt, vanishing and reappearing past her captor. Trembling, her hands grasped the iron ring which served as a handle and with all of her might she gave a powerful tug, but to her great consternation the door proved too heavy and opened only a couple of inches. Despite knowing well that there were probably guards on the other side, she prepared to blink again only to slam into some sort of magical barrier which left her stunned.

An arm snaked around her middle and another wrapped itself under her arms. Her feet lifted off the ground and pressed against a heavily plated body, the dazed woman was carried back over to the corner of the room and unceremoniously dumped in her original position. Arthas then placed himself pointedly between her and the door, his arms crossed and the edges of his mouth curled up in a cruel smile.

Her attempt at flight unsuccessful, the instinct to fight kicked in. Adrenalin pumped through her body and she sprang to her feet and lunged at him, raising tapered fingers to scratch at the exposed part of his face and baring her teeth. Using her nails to claw at him and pounding against his chest with her fists, Jaina utilized all the physical strength left in her drained body to attack her foe, clinging to him like an angry cat. The wound in her right arm screamed at the movement but she paid it no heed. Even after Arthas easily seized her wrists and pinned her against the wall, rendering her attacks worthless, she continued to fight.

Thrilled by this interaction, Arthas grinned down at her. She was responding perfectly. A small part of him had worried that her love for her people and _certain others_ really had destroyed her feelings for the human Arthas Menethil, but now he could tell that she loved him still no matter what she said or how she acted. If it had been otherwise, she would not have reacted so violently.

Her blond hair fell in strings over her red face and her chest heaved in and out fiercely.

"_Payment_? For not aiding you in your murderous rampage through Stratholme?" she whispered through snorting breaths as his words sunk in. It was much easier to call the massacre a murderous rampage than mercy killings at the moment although secretly she'd often thought of it as the latter. Her voice grew loud and shrill as she continued. "You think I will aid you? _Love you again_? Never, you son of a bitch! Not even hell itself could bring us together after all you've done!"

"You have no choice in the matter."

"If you are going turn me into a banshee or some other abominable thing," she hissed, "get on with it. That's the only way I could ever love you: as a mindless undead creature."

"We shall see."

"Do it! I have nothing more to say to you."

"I'm not going to turn you into a banshee, Jaina," Arthas said coolly. "I don't need another mindless minion. You are far more valuable to me in your current state… for the time being."

The wild look in her eyes softened slightly as he took both of her wrists in one hand and raised his free one to caress her cheek. His touch unsettled her even through his gauntlet. For seven long years she'd privately longed for it, craved it, and a tiny part of her desperately wanted to give in and enjoy it now. But common sense and anger overrode that part and pushed it deep into the recesses of her mind just as soon as it surfaced. However that didn't stop the memories from rushing back.

_He had snuck over to where she slept, gently waking her in his usual fashion. She'd propped herself up on one arm as he reached out and caressed her face. After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke._

"_I-when this is all over – maybe we can… talk. You know."_

"_About what ended at Winter Veil?"_

"_No. Not about endings. About beginnings. Because things have felt very incomplete to me without you. You know me like no one else does, Jaina, and I've missed that."_

"_I have never been able to deny you, Arthas. And yes. It feels incomplete to me, too. I've missed you very much."_

It was unbearable to remember. She turned her head away; Arthas took the opportunity to press her cheek into the wall, trapping her face so she couldn't resist. Clenching her teeth to stifle the pain in her arm, she turned an eye towards him.

"You are making a big mistake, Arthas. One that will be your undoing. I'll make sure of it."

"Brave words, my lady. Brave words." That sickening smile still on his lips, he continued to stroke her cheek almost affectionately, asking, "Are you afraid, Jaina?"

"I am trapped here in the lair of the monster all alone, surrounded by the Light knows what kinds of horrible things, and he asks if I am afraid!" she muttered as though speaking to herself. Jaina was terrified, afraid to even think of the future, and she wasn't above admitting it to herself. "How long were you planning this?" she demanded to know. "How long were you watching me, waiting to strike?"

"For years. You have always been in the back of my mind."

She wasn't surprised but all the same an indignant sniff escaped her. "Oh, really?"

"How could you not be?" the Lich King snarled, tightening his grip on her. "You deceived me, betrayed me when I needed you most. You know as well as I that petty vendettas are useless in the greater scheme of things and in most cases I wouldn't waste my time on them, but for you, Jaina, I am making an exception." He paused. "I was planning to wait until after the final battle to capture you – my lieutenants would have been instructed to take you and you alone alive – but when I saw you in the Howling Fjord, there was a change in plans." His demeanor softened slightly. "Give in to me now and spare yourself the torture." He knew she wouldn't and took joy in it; the very thought of torturing her delighted him. "You've missed me. Missed _this_…"

His body leaned into hers.

"I've missed the Arthas I loved," she whispered. "And you are not him." Another rush of fury shot through her and she stood tall despite her position crushed against the wall. "I would kill you if I could, destroy you with my own hands!" she cried, struggling against him anew. "No, I am not afraid of you!"

Arthas held her fast and resisted the urge to laugh out loud. "You could have fooled me. A frightened animal couldn't be acting more pathetic than you."

"You deserve nothing less than the deepest place in hell after all you've done, you traitor!" Her voice trembled with rage. "And I'll send you there myself!"

"Very well then." Releasing his captive and shoving her harshly against the wall, Arthas stepped back, opening his arms as though inviting her to try.

The sorceress knew better than to attack. Jaina stared at him for a moment before she sank to the floor, humiliated. Her cheeks flushed crimson with shame, and she dipped her head forward so that her long hair covered her face. The tears she'd been so desperately holding back began to leak out. Setting her jaw, she glared at him through watery eyes.

"Brave words," he repeated with a sneer. Then his stance softened, and resting a hand against the wall he leaned to the side.

"So," he began in a ridiculously conversational tone, "how've you been these past years, Jaina? It really has been too long."

"Not long enough." Jaina propped herself onto her knees and leaned back against the wall, weary and feeling ill. She chided herself for allowing him to unsettle her so.

"Being snide will not help your situation, I can assure you. Do you enjoy ruling your pathetic colony in that mud pit, holed up in your little tower, signing treaties all day while praying fruitlessly for peace? "

Anger and doubt gnawed at her insides. In truth she'd experienced leadership problems ever since the founding of the colony. Deserters and corrupt nobles still roamed about freely, denouncing her and attempting to usurp power, often using the name of her father as a rallying cry. Theramore itself was a virtual prison within towering walls with the citizens trapped inside and fearful of pirate attacks from the Great Sea on one side as well as threatened by the inhabitants of the marsh on the other.

Despite the peace treaty with Durotar, many of the populace still hated the Horde and wanted nothing more than to destroy the so-called savages that surrounded them; plenty of the soldiers, especially those who'd originally been in the Kul Tiras navy under her father, had deserted and fled into the marsh, determined to stir up trouble and proving such a problem that members of SI:7 actually came in from Stormwind to help deal with them. Relationships with the Horde as well as the Eastern Kingdoms were strained, especially since the return of Varian Wrynn, and there was nothing she could do to fix it. And despite being almost thirty one years old and having several good years of experience as a leader, she still had a mentor, her chamberlain Aegwynn, to correct her mistakes and help her make the right decisions as though she were a child, and she was ashamed to admit it.

Still, did she not lead those people out of Lordaeron and save their lives before the plague destroyed them? Did that count for nothing?

Jaina betrayed none of this to Arthas, of course. Her face remained completely frozen save for the tears that slowly fell down her cheeks.

"You know you're not cut out to be a leader, Jaina. You never were. Best to leave such affairs in the hands of others."

"I've done just fine, thank you!"

"Perhaps your father could show you a thing or two about commanding that city." He feigned ignorance. "How _is_ your father? He is with you in Theramore, is he not?"

Jaina nodded slowly, not letting him fool her. Daelin Proudmoore was indeed with her in Theramore, albeit in his grave, and she was sure the Lich King knew it. She winced. The memory of her dreams and her father's passionate hatred for her in them flustered her a moment. Did her father's spirit really linger on, invading her dreams to make his displeasure known? Did he truly want her dead for making peace with the Horde? For… betraying him in the name of peace? But pondering such questions would do little to help in her current situation and she quickly dismissed them, turning her attention back fully to Arthas as he spoke again.

"Really, Jaina. And you call _me _a traitor."

"… his death couldn't be helped," the sorceress said, her voice heated as she found herself defending her actions, and although her voice spoke boldly she found that she could not look him in the eye. "My father betrayed ME and usurped control of my city. He wouldn't listen. The peace Thr- I had worked for would have been destroyed because of him."

Arthas snorted as he caught her omitting the Warchief's name.

"Many would needlessly have lost their lives. I couldn't let that happen." She paused before snapping, "At least my actions were justifiable! Unlike yours!" A strangled laugh escaped her throat. "To think, your father was simply welcoming you home, a father glad to see his son alive, and in return you stabbed him through the heart!"

"Through the neck, actually." There was no regret in his voice.

"You bastard! You -"

"_I _have _your_ well-being in my hands, and you'd do well to think before you speak," he growled, rounding on her. "Be careful, Jaina; you might say something you'll regret."

Jaina cringed as he came closer but stood her ground. "I refuse to live the rest of my life as a prisoner to anyone... especially not to you!"

"You won't be an unwilling prisoner forever. I shut you away from the world long enough and you'll give in eventually. They all do. You'll be groveling at my feet as the Alliance is crushed without their little leader of Theramore. Not that you will be missed. You are nothing but a doormat to Varian Wrynn –"

"That isn't true!"

"– following him blindly while speaking out against his actions at the same time like the hypocrite you are. You will be easily forgotten, and no one will come to save you."

"I'll escape this place on my own," she declared but her words faltered as she considered her dreary location. Icecrown Citadel was by all accounts gigantic, and she'd easily lose herself among the many corridors and rooms, provided that she could escape from her cell in the first place.

"You won't be leaving. Now that I've got you, I've no intention of letting you escape. Try if you must but know that I will always find you."

The last statement was almost a dare. One that she wouldn't hesitate to take him up on.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Everything in this story belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. There will be spoilers for _Arthas: Rise of the Lich King_.

**The Shadows Grow Longer**

Chapter Seven

There were many days Varian Wrynn secretly wished he was still a simple gladiator in the Crimson Ring. This was one of them.

For hours he'd been arguing with the members of the House of Nobles (_Cage of Trained Monkeys rather, _he thought ruefully, _only without the "trained" part)_. The House did not see eye to eye with him on expenditures regarding the situation in Northrend as usual, and the sudden destruction of Valgarde Keep did nothing to help the situation as even more costly building materials, manual labor, and fresh soldiers needed to be shipped in to rebuild the site.

Many in the House wanted to abandon Valgarde altogether and simply move the port from Menethil Harbor up to the nearby Westguard Keep to save time and money, but Varian found this a disagreeable solution. No, it would not do for the Alliance to lose the port entirely; better to quickly rebuild despite the monetary losses and continue receiving fresh supplies and troops at the tip of Daggercap Bay. Valgarde was a much more convenient location to receive the supply ships at than Westguard by far…and the more Alliance bases in the Howling Fjord the better, especially with New Agamand and Vengeance Landing lurking so closely nearby.

Now with the tiring session finished and the day drawing to a close, Varian wandered out to the training area of the keep and quietly took a seat on one of the benches, watching as Anduin practiced archery with his trainer. He mulled over the situation at Valgarde once more.

The explanation behind the fort's ruin proved frustrating. The only thing everyone agreed on was that some foul magic had been afoot there, and no one could say for sure who or what was behind the attack or why, although Varian had his own suspicions.

Stepping up their efforts regarding research into the strange runic magic of the half-giants using the few specimens they had, the Kirin Tor still denied that the local Vrykul clan possessed the power to turn men into Scourge… yet over half the garrison stationed at the decimated fort had been lost within minutes, their bodies reanimated in the heat of battle as they turned against their former allies.

Apparently a call for help at the river had been raised inside the fort just as the attack started, but the survivors had been too busy fighting for their lives to supply any information other than that.

The king's mind went over the facts. There'd been a call for assistance, probably against a Vrykul attack, and the waves of relief were instantly cut down by some evil magic and raised as undead. Then the Vrykul launched a full out physical assault on Valgarde and destroyed the place, aided by the new Scourge warriors. But clearly some other force had been at work alongside them if this particular clan of wild men did not possess powers of necromancy as the Kirin Tor claimed.

_Perhaps the Lich King finally decided to take out one of our vital trade routes,_ he mused, _and the survivors didn't see his agents amid the attack. But if that was his agenda, why didn't he destroy Westguard while he was at it? Or perhaps the Horde – the Forsaken– had a hand in it. I would hardly be surprised..._

Meanwhile his son carefully nocked an arrow, widened his stance, and then raised and drew the bow, still struggling slightly with the bow string as he aimed at the target. The boy released his hold and fired; flying askew, the arrow embedded itself in the far left side of the target.

Irritated, Anduin scowled. Archery was not his forte – well, at least he was somewhat better at it than he was with those bloody _swords_ - but he kept his complaints to himself as he usually did.

Sensing the boy's frustration, his trainer laid a large hand on his shoulder. "Don't get discouraged, Anduin," he said gently. "It takes a lot of time and practice to master ranged weapons. You are doing fine. Keep practicing and you'll be hitting the center in no time. Now it's getting dark and we'd best call it a day. Same time tomorrow?"

"Of course. Thank you, sir."

The trainer smiled and took his leave.

Anduin frowned and turned from the range, preparing to put away the bow, when he saw his father sitting on the benches behind him. The two of them shared a look that clearly said the day had been a long one.

Varian rubbed his temples in an attempt to clear his mind of the situation with Valgarde.

"So the day hasn't been good to you either, Anduin?" he questioned lightly. "What's on your mind?" The king figured he already knew the obvious answer: the boy was frustrated with his training; Anduin, despite having the finest trainers in Azeroth, simply was not succeeding with weaponry. Varian was somewhat perplexed by this. And worried. His son _should _be a warrior. A warrior fit to be a king. He chalked it up to Anduin's age. Perhaps in a few years the boy would have grown physically and his weaponry training would continue in a better way.

To his surprise Anduin looked at him in disbelief. "The same thing that's bothering you, Dad!"

"What! You're wishing you could slap some sense into the House of Nobles too?"

"Well, no, not exactly." The boy looked his father straight in the eye. "I've just been thinking about the war in Northrend. What will happen if we don't defeat the Lich King and what it would be like if it was just the Alliance alone standing against him. In that case he would have already won. I'm glad we have so many people on our side. Groups such as the Knights of the Ebon Blade and the Argent Crusade are invaluable members to the cause, you know. We wouldn't stand a chance without them."

"Indeed." And so they were; the Knights of the Ebon Blade knew the enemy and could predict many of his movements before they happened, and Tirion Fordring, despite being a tiring old man, was an inspiring leader.

"… but what if that's still not enough?"

"It will be." Varian had a sneaking suspicion as to where this conversation was headed.

Anduin shrugged. "… I just hope we're utilizing and exploiting all possible fronts, that's all."

_Not this again. _

"All right, Anduin," Varian said with a scowl. "We've been over this how many times?"

His son just smiled innocently.

"We aren't allying with the Horde. We cannot ally with them because we cannot trust them," he said impatiently. He didn't understand why his son was so obsessed with the idea – perhaps the boy had been spending too much time around Jaina. "Think, son; _they_ caused Bolvar's death at the Wrathgate, not the Scourge."

"But that wasn't the Horde! Those were traitors –"

"If the Horde cannot even trust its own members, how are we supposed to trust them?" Varian growled, letting his anger get the better of him. "The Forsaken were planning to exterminate ALL life, including the living races of their faction, right under Thrall's nose. And don't think for a minute that Sylvanas had nothing to do with it." His large hands tightened around the two elven blades gifted to him by Jaina as though he longed to thrust the swords through the leader of the Forsaken right then and there. "Her claim of innocence is laughable because it is clear that _she_ orchestrated the creation of that plague and has done so for years."

"What happened at the Wrathgate was all Putress' and Varimathras' doing," argued Anduin calmly. "Sylvanas didn't intend for it to be used against the living."

"How can we be so sure of that? That banshee witch is evil incarnate. Her kind hates the living, and I mean all of the living, not just the Alliance. If the Horde can't trust its own members nor keep certain leaders like her in check, there is no hope to change the minds of the people of the Alliance. And it isn't just the Forsaken – oh, far from it! The rest of the Horde is just as bad."

Anduin sighed. "I really do think Thrall has good intentions, Dad. He's worked with Jaina for years to keep the peace between Durotar and Theramore. How can that be a bad thing? Isn't that what leaders are supposed to do?"

"Jaina is too trusting," snapped Varian. "I can only hope that her relationship with the Horde doesn't backfire someday and get her killed."

The man closed his eyes for a moment, praying it would never come to that; yes, he was angry with the mage for what she did at Undercity, but she was still a good friend and confidant and he did not want to see anything horrible happen to her on account of her almost fanatical crusade for peace.

"Besides, has there ever truly been peace between Theramore and Durotar?" He continued, "I don't believe so, despite what their leaders say they've achieved. Just look what happened at the peace summit in Theramore."

"Things were going well at the peace summit, I thought," Anduin said candidly.

"– until the Horde sent in the Twilight's Hammer and Garona Halforcen to assassinate me, you mean!"

"Dad –"

"There is no other explanation for why Garona would have been there, son. The Horde doesn't want peace; they want to dominate us, to wipe the Alliance off the face of the earth as they always have."

"But what if Garona being there was a coincidence? Maybe the Lich King sent her, or perhaps the Burning Blade did, to disrupt the proceedings."

But there was only one explanation for Varian. "The Horde brought her in to kill me just as she killed my father. The way that vile Garrosh Hellscream acted beforehand practically gave them away."

_Dad, you need to stop jumping to conclusions about these things and think them over first,_ thought Anduin as he put a hand to his head in exasperation. _Get your head out of the past. _The boy tried again.

"I know Garrosh Hellscream seems like a bloodthirsty moron," he said, "but what if Garrosh is the exception, not the rule? Thrall never acts like that, for one thing."

"I've seen into the hearts of orcs," Varian said grimly. "I've seen what they are capable of. I know their minds."

"I know you have plenty of reasons to get defensive if someone like Hellscream starts poking at you. It just seems like you won't give peace a chance at all sometimes." The boy frowned and stared questioningly at his father. "And that's what kings are supposed to do, aren't they?" he asked. "I think that if we ally with them now we can work out our differences _after_ the Lich King is defeated. It's the only way we can defeat the Scourge – just look at the numbers! The Alliance cannot do it alone, not even with the help of the Argent Crusade. We need the Horde's help."

But his father didn't hear.

_All Varian could do was stare at the lifeless body before him. _

_His father was dead. Murdered. Blood from wounds to the king's chest and neck poured forth, staining the gilded floor like spilled red wine. The flashing eyes of the half-breed murderer met those of the prince, and a chill of shock and horror shot up his spine when he saw the severed heart of his father in her bloody hand. _

_This… this wasn't happening…_

_He turned and fled like the frightened child he was, and the next thing he knew, he was running through the streets. Collapsing all around him, the beautiful buildings of Stormwind turned to rubble as fire raged rampant across the city, and the stench of burning flesh and wood assailed his nostrils. Ash flew through the air, burning his eyes, and smoke clogged his lungs. A large stone tower crumpled to his left, and bits of rock battered his face._

_Desperate to escape the invading orcs, throngs of citizens charged towards Stormwind Harbor, most of them never even making it to the boats; blood pooled in the streets as battered bodies lay where they'd fallen._

'_We are all going to die,' Varian realized in despair as he joined the crowd. 'Father is already dead. Father is dead.' _

_The thought hardly registered. Never had he felt so helpless, so afraid in his entire life._

Varian looked at his son. _Never_ would his child experience the same helplessness and fear that still plagued him after all of these years nor would his people and city ever again fall victim to the vile Horde; he swore it on his life. And despite what Jaina and others claimed, the new Horde had given him no reason to believe that they had changed from the bloodthirsty monsters that ravaged Stormwind not so many years ago.

Silence hung between father and son, each lost in his own thoughts.

"Is it true that I met the Lich King once?" Anduin asked out of the blue, hoping to bring his father back to the present. He knew that look.

Glad for the distraction, Varian faced his son. "What gave you that idea?" he asked. The king didn't recall ever speaking to his son regarding the subject.

Anduin shrugged. "Bolvar mentioned it to me once."

Varian sighed. "He wasn't the Lich King then –"

"Obviously." The boy rolled his eyes.

"– and yes, I suppose you can say you met him. When Arthas Menethil came to Stormwind for his induction into the Silver Hand, he stayed here at the keep with his family. You were less than a year old, and I think he was afraid of you, with you being so small and fragile a creature. Perhaps he thought he'd break you if he touched you. Your mother thought it was hilarious. She finally convinced him to hold you." A sad smile played on Varian's scarred lips. "You promptly grabbed one of his fingers and wouldn't let go."

Anduin laughed, and his father tried to concentrate on the joyful sound instead of the painful memories threatening to spill over. Everything, it seemed, brought him grief these days, and Anduin's simple question was no exception. From age twelve when he'd arrived at Lordaeron as a refugee to his early adult years, Varian Wrynn considered Arthas Menethil to be his best friend, almost a brother, and it pained (and therefore enraged) him to think of the other man now. And of course Tiffin, his beloved Tiffin, was long dead and gone, murdered -

A deep voice broke into his thoughts. "Forgive the interruption, Your Majesty –"

Varian whirled around to face its source, his eyes on fire.

"A messenger from the Kirin Tor arrived just moments ago from Dalaran," explained the courier calmly. "He carried a letter from Rhonin himself and says it is of the utmost importance that you receive it right away."

The king frowned. Rhonin was the last person he wanted to hear from; after all he was the one who had tried to secretly arrange an alliance with the Horde regarding the situation with Ulduar. Most of the respect Varian had for the man went down the drain after that little incident.

_If Rhonin is trying to push another meeting with the Horde on me, that idiot mage will regret it_, Varian thought as he stood and received the letter.

But the urgent news had nothing to do with the Horde and everything to do with Jaina Proudmoore, leader of Theramore and longtime ally of Stormwind. The king's eyes grew hard as he read the letter once, then twice as he tried to take it all in.

Apparently Rhonin had convinced Jaina into visiting Valgarde Keep to clear her head and, predictably, the woman hadn't been seen or heard from since the destruction of the base just two days prior. The Kirin Tor launched an investigation into the matter but nothing turned up as of yet although Rhonin seemed convinced that the local Vrykul clan had something to do with her disappearance. At any rate, knowing how valuable Jaina was to the Alliance, Rhonin concluded his letter with a formal request for aid from the king.

Fury filled Varian and he crumpled the letter in his fist. Local Vrykul clan! HA! The woman would have burned them down with her magic within seconds if she'd been assaulted by the likes of those filthy creatures. No, he knew for certain that Vrykul were not the cause of her disappearance. Only a few beings in Northrend could turn over half the garrison stationed at Valgarde into Scourge within minutes as well as overpower Jaina Proudmoore, and all of those beings had connections to the Lich King.

_How the hell could this have happened? Jaina should have known better, _Rhonin_ should have known better – _

"Dad? What's wrong?"

Seeing no point in shielding his son from the truth, Varian said angrily, "Jaina Proudmoore was at Valgarde Keep when it fell."

Anduin's blue eyes grew large.

"She hasn't been seen or heard from since."

"What do they think happened to her?"

"…I'll explain later. I have to meet with SI:7 at once." Wondering if Rhonin had written to the other leaders of the Alliance, he decided it wasn't worth the time to contact them. They wouldn't do anything anyway. Prophet Velen would perhaps nod sympathetically. Tyrande would pray to Elune for Jaina's safety. King Bronzebeard would hope Jaina hadn't fallen under a spell as his daughter Moira had. And things would continue as they normally did, leaving Varian to deal with the loss as he was the primary leader of the Northrend offensive.

"Do you think… the Lich King…?"

"Probably." He would inform Tirion Fordring and the Argent Crusade, and The Skybreaker in Icecrown, of course, and there would be an all out search in the Howling Fjord even though she was probably not -

"Will she be all right?"

Varian forgot his plans for the moment once he recognized the fear in Anduin's voice and turned his attention to his child. "I don't know, son. I hope so," he said gently.

"… I hope so too." This was hard news to take as Anduin was fond of Jaina and her politics.

Varian squeezed Anduin's shoulder, trying to reassure him. "Just remember what happened to me and how I came back. If we are lucky, Jaina will do the same. I will be preparing an all out search for her in Northrend and doing everything I can." With that he gave Anduin a small smile and left the training area to gather his advisors.

There was much work to be done.

Although he was loath to do so and made it very clear that he would be returning soon, Arthas had finally left her alone in the darkness once more, explaining ominously that there were "others" down here for him to attend to.

Jaina remained sitting in her corner, halfway in shock with tears leaking from her eyes. Memories of the happy times that she had shared with her former lover shattered like glass, and any hope that he was unwillingly under some evil influence which he could not shake vanished as it was obvious now that the choices he'd made and what he'd become were all results of his free will.

_No, Jaina, you will never deny me anything again. You will even _love_ me more than any other… you will be mine and mine alone in both body and soul._

The bastard! Her lips curled in disgust at the memory and her eyes cleared. How absurd, how pompous of him to say those things! Did he not remember who she was? Jaina Proudmoore belonged to no one and never would and Jaina Proudmoore would certainly never love the Lich King. Although his will was great hers could rival it, she knew, and no matter what he said or did, she would resist even if it meant her own demise… but the knowledge that he would simply raise her as one of his minions once she did die unsettled her.

She had to escape. But how?

Surely Varian Wrynn and Thrall would attempt to save her although it would most definitely not be a joint effort. Even though Varian was still sore at her for the incident at the Undercity and enough in the Horde would oppose a rescue mission for an Alliance leader to hinder Thrall from officially commissioning one, both leaders cared too much for her, politically and personally, to not take some course of action.

Still, neither the Alliance nor the Horde nor the Argent Crusade knew the layout of the inside of Icecrown Citadel despite various efforts to map it out; it was simply too vast and far too guarded to do so at this point. She herself had no idea where she was.

If only she could escape and reach the Argent Vanguard! She recalled that some of her own troops, some of whom she knew very well personally, were stationed among the ranks of the Argent Crusade along with Horde soldiers from Mulgore and Durotar; knowing that cooperation was the only way to win the war, Jaina, Thrall, and Cairne Bloodhoof had secretly been pooling Alliance and Horde resources under the title of Tirion Fordring's forces without letting the more uncooperative leaders like Wrynn and Sylvanas know. Jaina hated to go under her friend's nose in such a way but deemed it a necessity as the Alliance and the Horde needed to work together or else they would all die at the hands of the Scourge. It was as simple as that.

The Argent Crusaders were scheduled to attack Scourgeholme in days (hours?) but even now Jaina could see that their numbers were still too few to get far. She thought of the loyal Theramore troops stationed at the Argent Vanguard and prayed they wouldn't take up arms and march on Icecrown Citadel themselves to save her as they would most certainly fail.

No matter what the others would do, Jaina wasn't the type to sit around and wait for a rescue. The woman rose on unsteady legs, leaning against the wall for support as she considered her options. Perhaps she could use an invisibility cloak and somehow sneak out of her cell when the door was open – if Arthas or his more powerful lieutenants who could see right through her spells weren't around, that is.

_Arthas._ A vivid image of the handsome, loving youth he'd once been filled her head… a gentle smile on his lips as he leaned down to kiss her…

Light, she couldn't stand to see him again as he was now! The very thought made her shiver. Extremely agitated, she desperately searched for any conceivable way out – a hole in the wall, a crack in the ceiling, anything – but the room was solid ice and saronite. And she still couldn't teleport or even blink again as she had before; he'd made sure to throw up yet another magic ward to keep her from blinking before he left, damn him, and there were guards and probably countless other creatures on the other side of the door anyway.

As she went over the room again and again, pacing like mad, her head grew heavy and her thoughts wild and blurred. Her eyes were on fire, tearless now. She heatedly vowed that she would take the first chance she got and escape this place. Even if it meant her death.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** Everything in this story belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. There will be spoilers for _Arthas: Rise of the Lich King_.

**The Shadows Grow Longer**

Chapter Eight

A windstorm had blown in from the Storm Peaks. This was a rare occurrence as the towering mountains marking the border between the Peaks and Icecrown usually blocked any blizzards before they could reach Icecrown Glacier. Blown about by the gusting wind, flurries of snow skimmed the solid ice that comprised the ground of the area. Living members of the Cult of the Damned took shelter within the walls of the gates or the citadel itself; the undead milling on and between the great gates were pelted with small balls of ice but otherwise they were unaffected by the weather and stood firm against the wind.

Not so lucky were _The Skybreaker_ and _Orgrim's Hammer_. The crews of both gunships fought long and hard to keep the crafts from blowing off course or breaking down in the wind. Any living agents of the Alliance and Horde who'd forayed from the ships into Icecrown on various missions took cover amid the base of the mountains surrounding the Lich King's domain, and for the moment things were at a standstill. Earlier in the evening, however, the blood of the living had been shed.

The Argent Crusade had pressed their attack against Scourgeholme from the Argent Vanguard. The Crusaders put up a strong fight but ultimately the Scourge overran the invaders, capturing almost as many as they cut down. Rescuers from the Argent Vanguard riding proto drakes braved the burning Breach in attempts to save their captured comrades, many falling from the sky before they could complete their mission as frost wyrms flew in and assailed the would-be saviors. Some, however, managed to pluck their comrades from the clutches of the Scourge and returned to the Vanguard to warn Highlord Fordring of the impending Scourge attack on the base itself.

As his undead army decimated the living below and forced them into a retreat across the Valley of Echoes, the Lich King himself watched from a platform above the battle, commanding the frost wyrms and personally destroying any drake riders who ventured too close. Once it became clear that the Argent Crusade had been defeated, he gave the order to press the attack to the Argent Vanguard itself immediately and, satisfied with his commanders and knowing that the Vanguard would now certainly fall, he ported himself back to his private sanctum within Icecrown Citadel. He remained there, sitting in silence, for several hours, allowing himself to clear his mind in the only place he ever put his guard down.

The Halls of Reflection were dark, highlighted in a faint blue glow of necromantic energy that flickered from decorations on the walls on floor, with spikes and other abysmal décor carved into the walls. At the far end of the straight but long passage that comprised the walkway through the Halls, strong saronite doors blocked the entrance to a round room. This room was made to resemble the Imperial Chamber of Lordaeron, the seat of Lordaeron's kings and the very place where Arthas Menethil had murdered his own father. But whereas the original chamber back in Tirisfal Glades had been filled with light and adorned with beautiful blue and gold carvings on the walls and a seal on the floor, darkness enveloped this room.

A hideous dark seal, a twisted mockery of the seal of Lordaeron, had been carved middle of the saronite floor, and the walls surrounding the room were bare and cast long shadows across both the floor and the dais holding the throne in the back of the chamber. The black throne itself was a jagged piece of work that blended nicely with the pointy, disturbing decorum of the seal on the floor. This room comprised the apex of the Lich King's private chambers and only his most trusted servants were allowed access to it.

Drinking in the dismal, silent atmosphere, Arthas stretched out on his hideous throne. His hands were interlaced in front of him, and from time to time he would pop his knuckles but otherwise he remained as frozen as a statue, his thoughts far away.

He imagined how dismayed Tirion Fordring must have been after the attack on Scourgeholme failed with so many lives lost to the Scourge and felt a jolt of pure glee. The aging paladin was easily the biggest threat to his operations in Northrend, and Arthas still fumed over the Scourge's defeat at the Battle for Light's Hope Chapel in the Eastern Plaguelands. Accursed holy ground! Next time the Light would be unable to save the old bastard and his fighters; in fact Arthas planned to raise Fordring himself as a death knight after his inevitable defeat in Icecrown and charge the former holy man with leading the scouring of Azeroth. Thus Tirion Fordring, the man who would risk anything to cut down the Scourge and its leader, would be the Lich King's greatest champion.

Regarding certain others he planned to make future champions of the Scourge, however, Arthas furrowed his brow slightly. There was still one prisoner he hadn't been able to break so far no matter what atrocious things he tormented the man with and it caused him irritation to no end. But the fool would turn eventually. They always did. The strain of the torture always proved too much.

Jaina Proudmoore was the only one of his current and future prisoners that Arthas did not intend to break using his traditional methods. Due to their past history together, he decided he'd have some fun with her instead. Of course she'd be tortured like the others to soften her up a bit first but afterwards it would be less about physical pain and more about mental manipulation. He'd been tempted to drag Jaina along to witness the slaughter of the Crusaders, some of whom were her own troops under Fordring's banner, but knew it would have been more trouble than it was worth. Although he could subdue her powers for a short time he could not do so for an extended period and there was a big possibility that the powerful mage would use her magic to find an escape route when his attention was focused on the battle and not her. The threat of her magic, however, was about to end, at least for the time being.

As instructed, Kel'Thuzad had delved deep into his dark magic and concocted anti-magic bonds strong enough to contain the sorceress' magical abilities; her _induction to_ the Scourge would prove far easier with her incapable of fighting back using her vast powers, and she would remain helpless until her magic was restored by a being powerful enough to break the containment chains.

An image of Jaina's livid face popped into his head. She'd turned into quite the little hellcat after attempting and failing to get beyond the door of her cell, and he felt a surge of pride in knowing that he'd angered her enough to make her physically attack him. Yes, her emotions still controlled her, just as he'd expected they would. Perfect.

His smirk turned into a slight frown. The memory of her hateful visage from just hours earlier vanished, replaced by that of a fresh-faced girl with a bashful smile and blushing cheeks as she squeezed his hand and led him over to his bed. His grip on her little hand was so crushing that he feared he'd break it but she paid it no heed.

"_Jaina…"_

_"Arthas, I … are we ready for this?"_

"_I am if you are."_

She'd frowned and her brow furrowed, but he lifted her gently and laid her on the bed, covering her face with passionate kisses, feeling her relax under him and watching as she propped herself up and met his kisses with her own. His hands ran over her shoulders, helping her as she desperately tugged away her robes. He'd reveled in what he saw as she finally lay naked before him, her white body bathed in the faint glow from the bonfire outside, so transfixed that he barely remembered her helping remove his own clothes.

Long buried under the layers of raging hatred towards the living, the dull indifference towards everything else, the hunger of Frostmourne always urging him on, the countless memories and knowledge of another, and his own insatiable hunger for power, a forgotten feeling arose in his cold body. He remembered Jaina Proudmoore's soft flesh pressed against his own as they made love for the first time. He remembered running his hands over her curves as she slept afterwards, her face serene in the moonlight. And from his memories an emotion stirred, a powerful one. One that certainly wasn't love – he did not know love anymore and never would again – but rather lust.

_Not far from Ratchet, they met on their customary mesa. As they sat together on a small flat near the mesa's tip, the stars shone down upon them even through the dark cloud cover. In the distance thunder rumbled and the smell of rain was thick in the air. The creatures of the night stirred on the plains below. _

_Jaina chattered on about her recent studies in arcane casting and how powerful her experimental spells were proving while Thrall remained silent, content to listen idly. Neither of them had spoken of politics this night although it had been an important day; this day the fleet of Durotar set sail for Northrend to prepare the Horde offensive against the Lich King. The Alliance army was already there, having arrived a few days before. Thrall, silent until now, let out a long sigh. Jaina turned her gaze from the sky to his face. _

"_I'm boring you, aren't I?" she said, laughing. "I apologize."_

"_Boring me? Not in the slightest. I only wish I could understand more of what you say." He forced a smile._

"_What's wrong, Thrall? I know that look." She snuggled next to him, her small body curling against him, seeking comfort, and trying not to think of what was inevitably going to be brought up this night: the war against the Lich King and the hostilities between their factions. _

_The orc leaned back and let her rest against his chest. "I hate to bring it up, Jaina, but this could well be one of the last times we can meet as friends."_

"_We will always be friends, Thrall."_

"_You know what I mean. If the Alliance starts anything with the Horde, we would be considered traitors to meet in secret like this. And I am afraid too many are aware of our meetings already."_

"_I am already considered a traitor by many after what happened with my father. What's it to me?" she said lightly, hiding her own dread._ "_I would die for peace and I am not backing down."_

"_If you are shut away in some prison or hanged as a traitor, your crusade for peace will disband. The other Alliance leaders are simply not strong enough or otherwise would not care enough to continue the fight. There would be no peace between any parts of the Horde and Alliance as there is now." __Laying his large green hand atop her white one, he continued, "You must be careful, Jaina. You are in a precarious position."_

_She laughed bitterly. "When have I not been? Do not worry about me, Thrall; you have enough to think about already. The pieces are moving on the board. The Alliance is almost finished with Valiance Keep and Varian is splitting his army throughout Northrend."_

"_I can only hope he does not attack Warsong Hold or the other Horde strongholds."_

"_I don't believe he will." At least she hoped he wouldn't._

_Thrall frowned. "If only I could say the same for Garrosh. I do not trust that hothead. Saurfang is doing what he can to keep him in check but it worries me all the same."_

"_The Lich King is the enemy here. Not each other. Surely Garrosh can understand that."_

"_I can only pray to the spirits that he does," said Thrall. He suddenly studied his companion with an intensity that almost made her shiver. "Jaina… this enemy… I have never faced anything like him before. You have had dealings with him in the past – do you honestly think we can defeat such a being?"_

"_I believe we can but we must work together," she said somberly. "But I know far less about him that some, I suppose. Sylvanas for one –"_

"_Know far less than some? Jaina, forgive me for prying, but weren't you going to marry him? You of all people should know him."_

"_He isn't Arthas anymore, Thrall." Her voice turned to a whisper and a flash of pain crossed her face. "Arthas is dead. He died when he merged with Ner'zhul. There is only the Lich King now."_

"_I suppose you are right. But I am worried all the same."_

_She sensed the implication in his voice and held him tightly, locking gazes with him. "Worried about me? Because I loved Arthas?"_

"_Yes," he said, relieved she understood. "You are strong, Jaina. No one could ever say otherwise. But I am afraid your personal connection with this enemy will place you in position far more fragile than any of the other leaders. What if he remembers, Jaina? I am afraid for you," he finished, unsure how to approach the subject further._

"_Why would he care about me, Thrall? He isn't Arthas anymore." A part of her heart stung at her own words. Despite what they'd been told, she'd always wondered whether or not a part of Arthas still existed inside the Lich King. But she did not want to discuss the possibility – it still hurt too much._

_He caught the pain in her voice. "Forgive me." All too well did he know that she still loved Arthas in her way, and knowing she harbored such heartache alone grieved him greatly. _

"_It's all right," she whispered. And both of them were silent, lost in their own thoughts as night crept into dawn._

_I should have listened,_ Jaina grumbled to herself. _What a fool I am!_ Isolated for two days now, she spent most of her time asleep with her frost armor up to keep herself from freezing to death. At first, however, she'd been furious and paced endlessly in her cell, her mind going over again and again each detail concerning her meeting with the Lich King.

His words regarding her political career had been chosen, of course, to instill fear and doubt in the usually confident ruler of Theramore and she knew as much. Little did he know, however, how close to the mark he'd been with her recent bout of self-doubt, and his words harassed that little part of her mind which truly believed she was lacking as a leader of the Alliance.

A doormat! She was no such thing, she told herself sternly. She helped create peace between Theramore and Durotar and maintained it despite various threats. She fought at Hyjal, for heaven's sake! No, she did not possess power of the same magnitude as Varian Wrynn but she was a leader in her own right. She spoke for peace while Wrynn was dead set on war and she simply did not have enough political power in the Alliance to really and truly challenge him on their conflicting views; besides if she had the power to do such a thing and acted upon it, the Alliance itself could crumble or worse. Better to follow Varian while trying to keep him reined in with her words rather than pull a stupid move such as denying him military aid from Theramore due to difference of opinion. Some might even accuse her of siding with the Horde… some already _did _accuse her of siding with the Horde, especially after the incident with her father.

But what if she _should_ be taking a more aggressive stance against Varian? What if -

Fuming, she had to stop and tell herself to knock it off. _It isn't true. I am doing and have done all that I __can for the Alliance, aren't I? And I would never betray it. _

But she knew she _was_ in a precarious position. There was her peace treaty with Durotar, home of the same so-called enemies who'd allied with the humans and Night Elves at Hyjal to defeat the Burning Legion, and Thrall, her greatest friend and Warchief of the Horde so hated by Varian. Jaina refused to go back on her words of amity regarding Theramore and Durotar simply because the king of Stormwind, friend that he was, declared that peace could never be achieved between the two factions. Of course if a war began and the Horde struck first, bombarding Theramore itself, she would certainly sound the order to fight back. On the other hand she had a hard time seeing herself aiding the rest of the Alliance in making the first move against Durotar if _they_ decided to go on the offensive, and if that made her a traitor…

Just the thought of the full scale war between the Alliance and Horde looming ahead made her head spin and her chest ache. Varian's words to Thrall at the Undercity haunted her even now:

_The time has come to make things right, to disband your treacherous kingdom of murderers and thieves. Putress was the first strike; many more will come. I've waited a long time for this, Thrall. Every time I was thrown into one of your damned arenas… for every time I killed a green-skinned aberration like you I could think of only one thing: what our world could be without you and your twisted Horde…_

Still, the king had shown restraint after the battle. No, Varian was not cooperating with the Horde in the war against the Lich King but neither had he pressed a war against them as she'd feared he might in his anger over the Wrathgate incident. Thank the Light for that! They needed all the forces they could muster there in Northrend, not back on the other continents fighting another war while the Lich King's power grew.

That last thought brought her back to the situation at hand. The sorceress wondered what the Lich King had in store for her personally. From his words and actions it was clear he had a vendetta against her, something she hadn't anticipated. After all she'd figured he was a different entity from Arthas entirely, despite inhabiting her former lover's body, when the truth turned out to be quite the opposite as she so unfortunately discovered. All thoughts of the forgiveness and hope she harbored for the past eight years had vanished. She hated him. She wanted to see him dead. And she could not doubt herself or let his twisted words affect her if she was going to make it out of this mess, she knew.

By putting her self-doubt in the back of her mind and sealing it away, her confidence calmed her to the point where she relaxed enough to fall asleep. And thus she'd stayed in a comfortable state from then on, sleeping most of the time and shutting herself away from reality. Nothing better to do, really.

No one came to see her and the isolation began to wear on her; after a mere two days alone she already found herself craving some sort of contact, no matter how small, with another being. She had no desire, however, to see the Lich King again and dreaded his return.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** Everything in this story belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. There will be spoilers for _Arthas: Rise of the Lich King_. There is also a section from the short story "Road to Damnation" by Evelyn Frederickson in this chapter and she is given full credit for it.

**The Shadows Grow Longer**

Chapter Nine

Although she'd only been isolated there for two days, being trapped in that cell was an infuriating experience for Jaina. Not so much because she was in the same small space for so long but because she wanted to know what was happening in Northrend and could not find out. She hated being forced to sit out while the fate of the world rested in the hands of others. She wanted to know if the Argent Crusade's attack on Scourgeholme had been a success. She wanted to know what move the Lich King made next. And most of all she wanted to know if Thrall and Varian Wrynn were working to find her. Not knowing pained her more than anything else, and all she could do was pray for a miracle while sitting in the dank darkness, alone and miserable.

Those wretched screams had started up again and she could hardly bear to listen.

Her mental and physical agitation having gotten the best of her, a fatigued Jaina curled up on her side, resting her head in the crook of her arm and wrapping her thin cloak around her as best she could. The temperature was dropping rapidly and her clothes, suited for the springtime of the Howling Fjord, hardly protected her here even with the frost ward she summoned to resist the cold. She huddled up and stuck her hands inside her shoes, warming her feet. Her eyes grew heavy. Her thoughts muddled.

_She stood in front of the town hall of a beautiful, familiar city. A bright smile graced her lips for green leaves had caught her eye and the vibrant color brought her joy – these were trees of Lordaeron, not Theramore, trees she had not seen in years. _

_From above birds sang of summer. Children played merrily on the sides of the roads as wagons filled with grain and other goods clattered through the city. Men and women bustled about their everyday business, some stopping to rest and chat by the dazzling fountain in the center of the square. It was a happy, mellifluous environment. There were no signs of death or plague._

_Thrilled to be back in Stratholme and preparing to enter the town hall in search of someone – she was rather unclear on who she sought – Jaina chanced a glance to her left and stopped in her tracks. _

_There was a little girl, about age seven, standing and silently staring at her with eyes that frightened her. The child's gray lips were set in a wrinkled line and her blond hair was tangled. Something was definitely not right with the girl; she seemed wan and was certainly out of place among the other children as they laughed and scrambled about._

_Almost against her will Jaina approached the child. _

_"Hello there," she said in her kindest voice. "Are you all right?"_

_Slowly the girl's gray eyes rose to meet her blue ones. _

_"You," she whispered. "You…" One of her arms rose from hanging limply at her sides to point an accusatory figure at the woman._

_Taken back, Jaina stepped backwards._

"_You," the child said again, her voice flat and deathly silent. "You killed me."_

"_I killed you?" gasped Jaina, horrified. "But – no! Why? How?" _

_A hand grasped her shoulder from behind and she whirled about, coming to face a young woman whose face was as deathly pale as the child's._

"_I was going to be married in a week," the young woman said sadly. "I didn't eat any of the bread – why did you have to kill me too?"_

"_I – no, you are mistaken! Arthas is responsible for your deaths! I- I could not stop him!"_

_Smoke began to bellow about the streets. The playing children and happy townsfolk had vanished. _

"_You could have stopped him," said yet another voice, this time one of an older man. "My children should have been rescued, carried out of this city because they were not infected as I was and yet they were still slaughtered like animals and left to rot in the street. Why didn't you stop him?"_

"_I COULDN'T HAVE."_

"_You didn't even try," snarled an elderly woman whose face was nothing more than a charred skull. "You just walked away and left us – all of us – to die."_

_Jaina began to feel suffocated. The faces of more and more people began to appear around her, most burned and mutilated, and although she tried to escape they blocked her passage. The city around her was burning. Panic set in and she screamed._

"_You walked away! You walked away!"_

"_He loved you – he would have listened!"_

"_But he didn't! I tried!" she sobbed. "I told him there had to be another way!"_

"_You could have teleported him out of here! Saved those of us who weren't sick!"_

"_But what about those who were?" The sorceress retaliated suddenly, angry and sick of the accusations. "They would have killed you all anyway! I couldn't do anything"! And it dawned on her that Arthas couldn't do anything else either. "Arthas did what he had to do! You would have all died anyway and then been raised as undead whether you ate the grain or not! You had to die!" She could not believe what she was saying but the ugly truth had revealed itself._

"_No one had any right to make the choice of life or death for us, Jaina Proudmoore."_

"_There was no other way! There wasn't!"_

"_YOU WALKED AWAY! Why didn't you try?"_

"_Leave me alone!" she howled. "I beg you!"_

"_You don't deserve to be left alone, you bitch. We will haunt you for the rest of your days and rightfully so!"_

"_You are dead! You are dead! You are dead!"_

"_And you're not?"_

_She screamed again as thousands of withered hands reached for her -_

And awoke soaked with sweat, her forehead on fire. Would she ever be free from the past? She couldn't suppress a sob and curled up even tighter for comfort.

And then she sensed a presence coming towards her cell and straightened up. Not Arthas or anything of his magnitude of power; a simple presence rather, one with some magical ability but hardly anything for her to be frightened of. Dull footsteps approached.

The door to her cell opened and a human Death Knight took a few steps inside and tossed a hunk of blackened bread at Jaina. The mage opened her mouth in indignation, wanting to laugh at the guard and tell her that mages could conjure their own food and drink. But what happened next was pure reflex – later Jaina reflected on the event and decided that she was hardly thinking rationally at the time.

The mage realized that this might be a chance to escape and lunged at the Death Knight, seizing her shoulders and throwing her weight against the other woman.

Grabbing Jaina's arms as she forced her way forward, the guard staggered backwards. The impact of the charge hurled both of them through the half-open doorway.

Outside another Death Knight, a Tauren, blinked in surprise at the sight of them before drawing his sword and assisting his partner. Neither of them stood a chance against the archmage. With a few quick incantations and motions from her hands, both Death Knights lay dead, scorched by a massive fire bolt.

Greeted by a dark corridor, Jaina paused, unsure of where to go next. One end of the hall held more light than the other and thus she chose to head towards it, annoyed that she still could not teleport. Her cell had been magically reinforced, covered with anti-teleportation barriers, and apparently the surrounding area was as well.

This raised a new question. Why hadn't Arth – the Lich King restrained her powers? That was anyone's guess. Surely he knew that she would be trouble if she managed to escape but still he had done nothing more than keep anti-teleportation barriers up in the area surrounding her cell. Was he really that confident she could not escape that room?

It was time she showed him otherwise.

Running as silently as she could, rolling her feet as to not be heard, her heart beating wildly in her chest, Jaina jogged down the corridor with caution. A strong stench from somewhere nearby nearly gagged her and she covered her nose. No other guards or patrols came into view and she breathed a sigh of relief. That changed, however, once she'd rounded a corner and suddenly found herself in a large half-lit room. The source of the stench became clear.

Shapes in the darkness, mere blots at first, suddenly became large saronite cages. Inside them were prisoners of all sorts, wallowing in their own filth like animals, and their cries of pain and screams of terror pierced the air like knives. Racks holding numerous vials, books, and boxes lined the walls under the cages. In the center of the room were many skull-marked barrels, small tents, wooden chairs, strange looking wagons with spiked wheels and other equipment that Scourge scientists and torturers milled around as they tormented their hapless captives.

The prisoners unlucky enough to have been removed from their cages for interrogation or "testing" were strapped to various racks and torture tables, and screams of pain and moans of despair emanated from them. Dark blood stains covered the walls. Perhaps worst of all, various body parts were strewn about the room, lying in pools of blood and filth; arms, legs, heads with gaping faces, scalps, ribcages with cracked ribs and little flesh, lower extremities, full torsos, and plenty of other bits and pieces lay where they'd been carelessly tossed by the Scourge working in there.

It was undoubtedly the most disgusting sight Jaina Proudmoore had ever seen, and she came close to retching. Sheer rage replaced her numb shock as she stared at the room and its horrors.

Guards noticed her and sounded the alarm. From all over the room torturers left their victims and took up arms, preparing to subdue her. The "scientists" too stood alert. None of them were prepared for the power of the archmage. Against fire bolts they were doomed from the beginning, incinerated in their tracks as they approached her, and their screams mingled with those of the captives as they fell in burning heaps to the floor.

Jaina surveyed the charred remains with satisfaction before she went to work freeing the prisoners.

"You're free!" she called as she easily broke the non-magically reinforced cage locks with her arcane spells. "Come on! We must get out of here!"

At first she hoped they could aid her and perhaps all escape this place together but it became all too clear that most of them could barely stand. A majority of them just stared at her dumbly as their cage door swung open or as they were released from the torture racks. Others just continued weeping and wailing. They were unfit even for work in the quarry, hence their presence down there in the first place.

"S-save yourself," came the weak voice of one. "You are s-strong. Get out of h-here!"

"No, no! If you can only get up and follow me! I'll save you all, Alliance and Horde alike! We can escape. I can teleport us to Dalaran if we can just find -"

"No escape. T-too many of them. T-too weak anyway. Go now."

_These poor creatures would all be better off dead! _She realized as she watched the prisoners with growing horror. It broke her heart to think of leaving them there, and she began to lose track of time as her emotions got the better of her.

_I can't just leave them here! I can't just walk away like I did before! _Her dream rushed to the front of her mind and she shuddered. _But what can I do? All I can do is… kill them. Kill them and spare their souls the torment of serving the Lich King for all eternity. But could I just kill them? They have done nothing to warrant death! _

Could she make the choice now that she could not make at Stratholme? No, she could not, she realized, and suddenly she loathed herself for it as there would be no peaceful end for these creatures since she could not act now.

"Please try! Just for a little while!" she encouraged them still. "It won't take long to get out of here." That was a lie; she had no idea how long it would take or if escape was even a possibility.

No reply.

"I beg you! Please try! There is a chance!"

Only silence greeted her, along with the quiet sobs of the tortured. The realization that she could not help these people hit her full on, and with tears running down her face Jaina turned away, preparing to head down the corridor once more –

– only to be met head-on by a magical barrier that sealed her inside the room. Clearly one of the Scourge had escaped her fire bolts and managed to slip away, warning others of her escape. She cursed herself for being distracted by the hopeless prisoners and her hopes of escape were dashed.

"Death is all that you will find here!" a dark voice spoke up.

The sorceress whirled around as two new forces were teleported inside. The figures of two tall Death Knights in varying armor appeared before her. But these were no ordinary Death Knights; whatever they were, she could tell they were extremely powerful. Still, she reckoned she would come out on top in a fight against them.

"Your death, perhaps!" She spoke bravely.

A laugh emanated from one of the two figures. "Come, Marwyn, let's finish this wretch!"

_Marwyn? _The recognition hit her like a slap in the face.

"Marwyn? Falric?" she whispered.

"What! It knows us?"

"I-it's Jaina. Jaina Proudmoore. We fought together in Lordaeron! At Andorhal and Hearthglen! Surely you remember!"

"Ah yes, I remember you. The little mage. It is all too tempting to kill you outright, woman! Prepare yourself!" One of the figures advanced towards her.

Jaina began channeling one of her fire spells, fire crackling in her hands.

"Fool! This is the one the master wants kept alive. She is powerful. We wear her down."

To Jaina's horror, the enslaved spirits of various soldiers of Lordaeron materialized before her. Rushing at her in a torrent, these visions of the past threatened to overwhelm her at first, and a cry stifled in her throat. However, the apparitions, it turned out, were pathetically easy to burn down and she did so with a volley of arcane missiles and fire bolts.

"We will never rest!" they cried as they were felled. "We will never have rest, Jaina Proudmoore! Your efforts are in vain!"

Jaina shut out their death wails and turned to Falric and Marwyn.

"This is your last chance! Surrender or we'll bring you down through some very unpleasant means!"

"I'd love to see you try!" Vaguely she wondered if she could dispel the magic barrier in the corridor after defeating them but no matter. For now she had nothing to lose by fighting.

With a deafening cry they rushed forward. Jaina cast a frost nova at Marwyn, freezing his feet to the ground, while she channeled a nimbus of blue magic through her hands and blasted Falric with arcane missiles, throwing him backwards. The former captain of Lordaeron steadied himself against the blast and charged her, knocking her to the floor.

A sudden despair filled the mage and she felt the horrible urge to flee but managed to hold it down as Falric raised his hand and summoned some sort of dark magic against her. In return she froze him in an ice block.

"You _are_ powerful," spoke Marwyn in that toneless voice of his as he freed himself from effects of the frost nova. "You shall make a fine member of the Scourge."

"It will be a cold day in hell when that happens."

He grinned. "You'd be surprised how cold it is down here…"

She shuddered. Summoning water elementals to her side, the sorceress launched an attack on the Death Knight who froze her little allies in their tracks and cut them down with ease.

"You should have run when you had the chance. What stopped you? This rabble?" Marwyn motioned at the prisoners in the room. "How very kind of you to waste your chance to escape on them."

Jaina certainly regretted spending those several precious minutes trying to free the captives. But what else was she supposed to do? She could hardly just leave them like that!

"Still the same weak-hearted creature as before?" Falric had released himself from the ice block. "You missed out at Stratholme, Jaina Proudmoore. The screams of those children were the most delicious I've ever heard!"

"Monster!"

Another wave of soldiers materialized and again she cut them down with a fire ball.

"A monster?" laughed Falric as he headed towards her. "I am nothing that you won't be in the future."

For several minutes thus they fought. The two Death Knights began to weary against Jaina's magical prowess and when it became clear that she was victorious, both Falric and Marwyn stood back, unsure of how to further handle the situation. The fact that they could not kill this woman complicated things considerably and it frustrated them beyond belief.

"Let me pass and I will spare you," said Jaina in a neutral tone although there was triumph written all over her face.

"Come, Falric!" cried Marwyn. "Charge!"

Jaina sighed and prepared to finish them off.

"Halt!" Arthas' familiar voice rumbled through the room; Falric and Marwyn stopped and stood back respectfully as their master teleported into the room. Accompanying him was a lich Jaina did not recognize.

"I have come to put an end to this," he said dryly, staring Jaina down. "Falric, Marwyn, you are dismissed. See to it that this mess is cleaned up.

The two Death Knights bowed and vanished, glad to be relieved of dealing with this particular prisoner.

"I'm a bit disappointed, Jaina. I thought that you would surely make it farther than this." The Lich King suppressed a laugh. "However it is time this game of yours came to an end." He held a hand out to her. "Come with me now and I'll forget this little incident ever occurred."

"Never."

In the blink of an eye sparks of fire circulated from the mage's hands, culminating into a huge fireball that shot from her outstretched palms and blasted her two new enemies before they could register what was happening. Both of them were thrown backward into the wall by the force of the blast. Jaina pressed her attack, whispering an incantation that froze their feet to the ground in blocks of ice as she prepared to unleash a small blizzard of swirling ice shards upon them.

Both the Lich King and the strange lich broke her frost nova and freed themselves just before her blizzard began to pick up speed.

Recovered from the fireball, the strange lich began summoning a powerful frost bolt to subdue her but she was on to him and whispered a spell, interrupting his casting and dazing him for a few precious seconds.

Meanwhile the Lich King sprang into action. In his rage he'd initially seized Frostmourne and prepared to slice the woman in half before he thought better of it. He did not want to kill her, not yet at any rate. Instead he'd drawn upon his dark magic, pooling power into his right hand while Jaina was preoccupied with the lich and, shooting a stream of black energy towards her that gripped her around the upper body, jerked her violently forward. Her blizzard spell was interrupted and she was drawn to him.

Jaina shrieked with rage as he seized her by the throat and pulled her face just inches away from his snarling one. Easily taking aim at his chest, she fired a barrage of blue arcane missiles from her palms and hit him five times over before the spell ceased. Although the arcane missiles did not hurt him nearly as much as she'd hoped, they forced him to drop her; she fell to the ground with a dull thud. Scrambling to her feet she leapt away from him, trying to buy herself the space she desperately needed to fire her ranged spells. Her hands glowed as she summoned several water elementals to her side. She itched to polymorph him but knew he would just resist the spell.

Furious, Arthas recovered from the attack and lunged at her, freezing the water elementals as he approached. His fist connected with her cheek before she had the chance to move, and she groaned, turning her bruised face away.

Suddenly realizing the danger she was in, the sorceress desperately began to cast another fire bolt at the furious figure looming before her. However the lich who accompanied the Lich King, oriented and eager to get back at the mage for her earlier counterspell, returned the favor, blocking her casting.

Jaina's head muddled and the spell she'd been muttering froze in her throat.

At the same time the Lich King, having frozen and cut through her water elementals as she reeled from his punch, seized her by the back of the head and applied a painful mind freeze just as he had during their earlier confrontation. Cold enveloped her and a strange cacophony of tormented screams burned in her ears as his spell surged through her. She barely felt Arthas seize a handful of her hair, so affected was she by his dark magic.

"And this is exactly why I need you, Kel'Thuzad," the Lich King snarled. "She is far too powerful to be left unchecked even here."

As he hauled Jaina out of the torture chamber and back down the corridor to her cell, Arthas glowered. He'd been in a fairly good mood after crushing the Crusade earlier than morning but it had gone sour due to this attack of hers.

Wretched woman! Did she honestly think she could escape him? He'd been prepared for her to break out at some point and had wanted to see how far she could get before he snared her again. Certainly she would have made it out of the dungeon, he assumed! But it turned out otherwise.

Clenching her hair as harshly as he could, he jerked her about, listening to her cries of pain with glee, and after kicking aside the dead guards at the entrance of the cell, he tossed her inside and leered at her from the doorway.

"Forgive me for taking so long to return," he said snidely. "I've been busy destroying your friends in the Argent Crusade."

She remembered the planned offensive and felt sick. What did he mean by that? Had the Crusaders' charge been overrun by the Scourge? Many of her own men were there, some of whom she knew well personally; did they survive? Or did they now trudge as ghouls or corrupted souls in the Lich King's army? But she said nothing and simply cowered in pain.

The misshapen skeletal creature floated out from behind the Lich King. It was a heinous sight and Jaina still felt disgusted despite having seen such creatures before. Around its torso a long chain of blue necromantic energy swirled about and, almost hidden among the ornate headdress adorning it was a tiny fanged skull that resembled that of a human. Its huge skeletal hands, completely out of proportion when compared to the tiny head, floated at its sides. Flowing purple robes bellowed around the lower half of the "body."

"You remember Kel'Thuzad, I am sure."

Kel'Thuzad took in the sight of the woman before him. Her blond hair was rumpled and tangled under the light fabric of her hood, and her face was pinched and white from the cold. Her blue eyes scrutinized him with clear disdain. But her aura fascinated him the most; teeming with numerous energies, most possessed by only a select few of the many mages he'd encountered over the years, it's pure constitution practically cried out to be corrupted by the dark knowledge bestowed upon him by the Lich King. But he knew he could not touch her as much as it tempted him. She was for his master alone.

"Jaina Proudmoore. No longer Antonidas' little lapdog, I see. Of course he no longer has need of you, now does he?"

Her hands clenched in response and words of disdain hovered on her lips but she controlled herself and remained silent.

Yes, Kel'Thuzad remembered this whelp well. For years she'd been Antonidas' star pupil and annoying little errand girl in the Violet Citadel. A soft growl escaped his throat as he recalled the last time he saw her there. Antonidas and the other archmages had gone snooping around in his warehouses, determined to find evidence of necromancy. And find it they did. He had been outraged.

_"Searching my chambers for evidence of forbidden magic? You should know better." _

_"True, your chambers bore no such evidence. The warehouses you own in the northlands, on the other hand..." Antonidas gave him a disgusted look. _

_Damn the man for being a self-righteous snoop. "You had no right..." _

_Antonidas tapped his staff to the floor, silencing him, and turned to the other magi. "He has turned the buildings into laboratories for a series of foul experiments. See for yourself, colleagues. Behold the fruit of his labors." He opened the chest and tilted it so that all could see. _

_The decaying remains of several rats. Two were still scrabbling clumsily at the sides of the chest in a vain attempt to escape. Several magi bolted to their feet, and there was a hubbub of dismay. Even the golden-haired high elf who had been sitting in the back of the room seemed startled, though Prince Kael'thas was a man whose age made that feat nearly impossible. _

_Turning back to the captive rats, Kel'Thuzad saw that they had collapsed and stopped moving. Another set of failures, apparently. No matter. Someday he would create a stable undead specimen. His hard work would be vindicated. It was only a matter of time. _

_A young woman arrived in another flash of light. As she went to stand by Antonidas, the high elf's gaze followed her with troubled, brooding intensity. But Jaina Proudmoore took no notice; she was utterly focused on her duties. The handsome prince didn't stand a chance. _

_Her vivid blue eyes spared Kel'Thuzad a curious glance. She took the box from Antonidas, who explained, "My apprentice will see to it that the chest and its contents are incinerated." _

_The woman inclined her head and teleported from the room. Across the room, the high elf frowned at the spot she had vacated. Under other circumstances, Kel'Thuzad might have found the silent drama amusing. However, left unchallenged, Antonidas was continuing his tirade. Mutely seething, Kel'Thuzad resumed his efforts to free himself._

His fangs clicked together in delight as he thought of how Antonidas had fallen during the siege of Dalaran while _he_ on the other hand had been granted life eternal by delving into the necromantic magics forbidden by the Kirin Tor and following the call of the Lich King.

Jaina remembered the lich all too well. He was the man –the thing – responsible for starting the plague in Lordaeron and so much more.

"Kel'Thuzad," she said quietly, disgustedly, unable to contain herself any longer, "it would seem that you have turned into one of your own vile creations. You are a disgrace to everything the Kirin Tor stands for!"

"The Kirin Tor?" A horrible laugh emanated from the lich's body. "Nothing more than a group of disillusioned fools who have lost sight of what constitutes true magic! They restricted themselves to the magics of the living while I learned the secrets of death."

"Secrets that should have remained secret. You have damned yourself."

"To be damned one must actually die, something I do not plan on doing, my lady. My lord has granted me eternal life."

"I cannot think of a greater curse," she said coolly.

"Perhaps you will not think of it as so after a while here."

This did not unnerve her. "Nature should go on as it will. The dead should lie in peace with no foul necromancy to force undeath upon them."

"Once we've triumphed it will be only natural for the dead to rise. And triumph we shall. You shall live to see the rise of a new era."

"Disgusting. Both of you," she said, shaking her head in disapproval. Her eyes simmered with hatred. "The Argent Crusade will see to it that you are destroyed."

"Judging by the way things went earlier today, I'd say they are the ones who will be destroyed," the Lich King rumbled with pride.

Jaina's heart sank. So they had been defeated. She could only wonder how bad the loss was.

Kel'Thuzad grew tired of listening to the woman's insults. "My lord, shall we proceed?" he inquired.

"Indeed we shall."

"I will need her hands." Kel'Thuzad studied Jaina, unsure whether to approach her or not.

Jaina's eyes widened. She was no fool and knew the implications of Kel'Thuzad's brief words. The instinct to protect herself kicked in; if she was without her magic, she would be completely helpless in the very place where she needed her powers the most. As tired as she was already, she prepared to fight.

Arthas stepped completely inside and seized her, holding her helpless as Kel'Thuzad entered.

"It is infallible; I have manipulated the properties of arcane prisons and chains into a restraint." Kel'Thuzad sounded particularly pleased with himself. "These are anti-magic bonds that will withstand even the greatest of magics. She won't stand a chance against it despite her magical abilities."

The lich floated to where his master held Jaina and took her wrists in his large skeletal hands; she tried to flail against his grip but was too fatigued to really put up a struggle. Instead she could only stare in horror as Kel'Thuzad uttered some some guttural, incomprehensible spell, allowing the words to form energy that he harnessed in his hands. A shot of blue light transferred from him to her, and instantly a swirling chain of magic, not unlike the one holding the lich himself together, appeared around each of her wrists.

A chill spread through her body and the cold seeped through her like water through cloth. Something felt terribly wrong; she felt so… _empty_. A feeling of dread forced a shiver down her spine.

"Inspired by the magic warlocks use to control demons as well as the defenses of the Violet Citadel," Kel'Thuzad explained proudly. "While under the effects of this spell she has no magical ability whatsoever. And it can only be removed by someone of great magical prowess, someone who could unravel the energies." He laughed at the stupefied look on his victim's face.

"What did you do to me?" she whispered hoarsely. She felt coolness on her wrists and stared dumbly at the whirling chains of magic around them. _Oh no… anti-magic chains. _And ones of greater power than she had ever encountered before; others she had almost always been able to break. _These _were clearly made with the intention of keeping someone with her power restrained.

"You are indeed powerful, Jaina Proudmoore" the lich observed. "I understand why Antonidas bothered to take you under his wing in the first place." The same memory from earlier again stirred and he added, "Kael'thas knew your potential as well. Now I understand why he was so enamored with you."

Jaina cringed at the mention of Kael, faintly remembering the elf's final words to her.

"_Foolish girl. This is the monster you would take to your bed? Arthas is a butcher! He has slaughtered thousands of innocent people! There is so much blood on his hands that a whole ocean could never wash them clean. And you loved him? Chose him over me?"_

Arthas! Helpless and overwhelmed she turned her eyes to the Lich King. How could he do this to her? He knew how important her magic was –

She mentally slapped herself as she again viewed the horrific face of her former lover. _STOP IT! He is not Arthas any longer, _she screamed at herself. _This _thing _is not the man I loved! There is truly no part of him left no matter what the monster says to the contrary! _

Sadist that he was, Arthas did not fail to notice how appealing she was with the terrified look on her face and the faltering demeanor of her body. Suddenly the urge to remove his gauntlets and feel her with his bare hands, to see if she felt as soft, as warm as she once had stirred him. Before he could stop himself he was running his free hand slowly down the side of her face, taking in the smooth texture of her cheek through his gloves.

Jaina cowered a moment before she jerked her head away. Irritated, Arthas brutally grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him. Those bright blue eyes smoldered with revulsion as they met his soulless ones, and for some reason that made him even angrier.

"Don't be too angry, Jaina," he said cruelly. "I'm simply taking a necessary precaution. As you just demonstrated, you do not need to be left here with your powers unchecked." He threw her to the floor, and she groaned, trying to crawl away. "I will return your power in its entirety once you've succumbed to me – no, I will give you far more power than you possess even now. I will make you stronger than you can imagine. But first I think it is best if you and I get reacquainted –"


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** Everything in this story belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. There will be spoilers for _Arthas: Rise of the Lich King_.

WARNING: This chapter gets a bit darker as there is some torture.

**The Shadows Grow Longer**

Chapter Ten

Never before had she felt so utterly forsaken, so vulnerable in her entire life. Her magic was gone, leaving her empty and shaken; a butterfly with clipped wings couldn't have been more helpless than Jaina Proudmoore was in that moment.

The look on the Lich King's face frightened her. It was a leering gaze that made a pass over her body as she rose from her position on the ground, and she shuddered.

Her fear encouraged Arthas to take advantage of the moment; it was a powerful aphrodisiac that stirred his lust further. The fact that he felt lust at all both excited and irritated him. For seven years he'd sat on the Frozen Throne, thinking of nothing of the sort as his acquired powers proved a far greater rapture than any mortal sexual activity ever could, but now, here, with _her_ before him once more, old feelings seemed to rush through him like a tidal wave.

Continuing to eye her over, taking in the long forgotten loveliness that had always attracted him as a mortal, he realized that this was the first time in years he had considered anything to be beautiful. He itched to corrupt that beauty and twist it, bend it to his will as he did with all things he came across; however now was not the time to do so. Still, he was determined to get his hands on her and sate his desire in some form.

"Leave us, Kel'Thuzad," he said, turning to the lich. "I'm sure you wish to speak with Lady Deathwhisper before you depart for Naxxramas; inform her that there will be a mortal in my private chambers who will need some…_ tending_ _to _by the living. Have her send only her best cultists to do the job."

Kel'Thuzad bowed. "Yes, master," he said, casting one last doubtful look at Jaina as he made his exit.

Watching the Lich King warily as this exchange look place, Jaina couldn't help but recognize the broad, roguish smile that was almost overwhelmed by the rest of his chilling face. It was Arthas' smile, one she remembered well, the one he inevitably used when he wanted to bed her… or when she was determined to bed _him_. The memory caused her pain and to see that familiar smile on his sinister bone-white features upset her.

She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, remembering how desperately over the past seven years she had longed to free the spirit of Arthas Menethil, if there was any part of him left, from the grasp of the Lich King. Surely he'd been under some sort of magical influence after the claiming of Frostmourne as there was no way _her_ Arthas would have committed such atrocities of his own will, but if it was as he now claimed, that Arthas _was_ willingly the dominant part of the Lich King – well, the possibility still shocked her. And everything he'd said and done since she'd been brought to Icecrown certainly suggested it was true. Still, a flicker of hope remained in her heart.

This might be her chance, she realized, to coax any existing part of the old Arthas out of the Lich King and perhaps spare Azeroth – and herself – from his wrath. She had known him better than any other, been his lover and best friend, and now it fell to her to try and save him.

"Arthas…" she trailed off, unsure what to say. "I-I truly loved you." Her voice softened. "You were everything to me. I wanted to share my life with the wonderful man you once were. If I had the chance…" her voice trailed off again. _If I had the chance I'd share my life with him still._

He snickered, a flash of darkness falling over his sinister face. "You'd what?"

"I'd… I don't know!" She covered her face with her hands and her chest constricted. _I am so lost… _

"Oh, I think you do. You would what, Jaina?" Arthas laughed. "You'd save him from the evils of the Lich King and all would return to the way it was? That you could love him again? Come now. I know it was a shock but we've been over this. What does it take to get an idea through your pretty little head? I am the Lich King. You cannot change that fact."

"If that is true then my feelings for you vanished years ago."

"You always were a bad liar, Jaina."

She gasped and her eyes narrowed. "I am not lying!" The words were practically shouted, revealing the intense conflict within the normally calm and collected mage.

"Are you so sure of that?"

"Yes!"

"Really?"

"Yes, damn you!" she snarled.

"What if I don't believe you?"

"I could care less what you believe; it's true!"

"Is it?"

"Stop it, Arthas!"

He grinned. "Should I?"

Frustrated she snapped her mouth shut and stared at the ground as he laughed.

"I see that look on your face, the cautious spark of hope in your eyes. You still wonder if part of me is the same man that you once loved. I'll save a lot of time and speculation on your part and answer that right here and now."

Jaina frowned and watched him carefully.

"Yes, I am Arthas still. But I am the Lich King also. The sooner you come to realize and accept that, the much happier you will be."

That was not the answer she wanted to hear despite the fact she knew it was the truth. She wanted to hear that Arthas was a separate entity trapped within that dark body and its two twisted souls, not that he himself was the Lich King.

"I'll make this easier for you. Tell me, Jaina. Did you love Arthas?"

Cautiously she replied, "With all of my heart."

"Your Arthas slaughtered the people at Stratholme. Did you love him even then?"

Her face paled.

"_Your_ Arthas destroyed your beloved Dalaran and murdered your mentor. What about then? Did you _still _love him despite it all? Don't bother answering." He held up a hand. "We both you know did. We both know you do now. And I am he. Therefore you love me." A triumph look spread across his face.

Still she shook her head in denial. "You are not him. You are not him," she repeated almost as though to herself.

"You're making this unnecessarily difficult for yourself. I am_ Arthas _the Lich King, Jaina."

As she recoiled at his words, writhing in horror against the corner of her cell, he struck, seizing her wrist in a vice-like grip and pulling her to him. His free arm wrapped around her waist like an iron band, and he held her against him, wishing his armor did not stand between the two of them as he studied the smooth texture of her chest through her thin robe. Releasing her wrist and reaching slowly for her face once more, he cupped her chin in his hand almost gently and lifted it so that her eyes met his. Those blue spheres of hers were wide with shock and still smothered with revulsion. Suddenly delighted by her anger, he tilted his head downwards, aiming for her lips, ready to taste her again.

Jaina jerked away immediately, placing a hand on his chest and shoving him as hard as she could although she still could not free herself from his clutches.

"Stop it. Let go of me," she said through gritted teeth. Her hands lifted, preparing to cast a spell that was immediately stifled by the glowing magical restraints over her wrists.

"Come now, Jaina." He grinned evilly, clutching her even closer to him. "We both know that only I can give you all that you need… and all that you desire."

"What gives you that idea?" she spat. She was so furious she couldn't see straight. The alluring smile on his face had suddenly vanished, leaving only the Lich King once more and she pressed her verbal attack. "What makes you think I want anything to do with you? Other than see to your demise, that is. After all you've done…"

Her eyes closed a moment as a thought, one that haunted her in the deepest reaches of the night, struck her without warning: _Despite all he did, all the torment he wrought upon our kingdom and beyond, I continued to love him, _she would whisper to herself._ I continue to love him still. _

She shook her head. _No. He is not worthy of my love. My heart belongs to another now._

"Please let go of me," she demanded quietly but firmly, helpless to do anything else.

To his surprise, Arthas found that he enjoyed holding her in his arms far more than he ever thought he would. Apparently his consciousness as Arthas Menethil wasn't far enough gone to not enjoy holding another close. This was something he'd missed, he realized much to his annoyance. And only Jaina alone stirred such a desire for closeness. Again he realized how dangerous such feelings were to his current position but he shook it off, figuring that since she was completely under his control now they were of no consequence. He could do what he wanted with her.

"I will release you when I desire." He loved her discomfort, the fear and hatred radiating off of her. His free hand caressed the sensitive skin around her temples and then moved down to her cheeks and nose. "Perhaps you should just give in," he advised the fuming woman. "You'd enjoy my touch much more than you think. Just like you used to…"

"I'd sooner slit my own throat! I'll have nothing to do with you, monster! You may have me as a prisoner here, and I may be without my magic but I will not succumb to this! If I can survive the Burning Legion I can certainly survive you! Do what you will, you heinous –"

Suddenly angry beyond belief at her insolence, the Lich King decided she was not fit to say such things and, releasing her and shoving her backwards, backhanded her across the face. Blood spurted from a fresh gash on the side of her lips and cheek as the spiked edges of his gauntlet raked across them, and she drew back, one of her hands automatically jerking upward to stifle the pain and flow of blood.

"Enough of that," he growled, furious that she hadn't been receptive to his attentions. "You will not speak in such a way to your master." His tone left no room for argument but she paid no heed.

"You are _not_ my master!" To reiterate this point she lashed out, shoving him away as hard as she could. Nothing would have pleased her more than to scratch his face and tear open some of _his _flesh at the moment, but unfortunately for her he was in full armor. "Let me out of here!"

With a growl he lunged and easily caught her by the arm. "You want out? Of course! Clearly you do, just as you demonstrated so well earlier! Oh, I'll take you out!"

A death gate surrounded by a reddish hue appeared next to them, and he dragged her towards it. Jaina planted her feet into the ground and resisted with all her might but it was of no use, and the next thing she knew she was blinded by a blast of snow and ice; the Lich King had teleported them onto one of the ramparts of Icecrown Citadel.

No less chaotic than when it first arrived from over the Storm Peaks two day before, the storm violently beat at her thin robes, whipping them around her body so harshly she was afraid they would tear.

Turning her head so she could at least partially see her surroundings, Jaina could only make out a horrible black shape looming to her right through the chaos, the bare structuring of what appeared to be a floating necropolis like Naxxramas.

Unaffected by the storm, Arthas looked fondly upon the skeleton of the newly formed Scourge necropolis to their right that had caught Jaina's attention. Malykriss: the Vile Hold was intended to be a replacement for the lost Acherus. It was only now beginning to take shape, most of it still awaiting saronite from the below quarry to fill in its walls, but once complete this new defense would be impenetrable, and he delighted in the thought of taking it to the Eastern Kingdoms to finish what he had begun there.

Geists, gargoyles, abominations, pustulent giants, huge reanimated skeletons, undead plague-dogs and other horrors patrolled the ramparts. Jaina's heart sank as she realized she was truly being held in the very heart of the Citadel and any remaining hopes of escape were dashed. She wondered how Thrall or Varian Wrynn or the Argent Crusade would ever make it through Icecrown's defenses to rescue her.

The woman shivered as her captor continued to hold her in the storm. Her body temperature began to sink and her thin robes were soaked with water and blood spots from where the hail and ice pelted her. In an attempt to shield herself from the projectiles, the sorceress tried to duck behind the creature that was her former fiancé, but he would have none of that and, grasping her by the neck, held her out at arm's length in the full force of the storm.

"For the Light's sake, take me back!"

He didn't even look at her. "You wanted out. I am simply obliging."

"Not like this and you know it!"

No reply.

The storm was too much for Jaina, or for any living being for that matter. Wind cut into her body without mercy and the bits of ice and snow forced her eyes closed, tears of pain squeezing out from under the lids. A scream caught in her mouth, choked by pieces of snow, and she coughed and gave a cry that twisted against the wind. Eventually she began to retreat into herself, no longer feeling the storm that raged against her body. On the verge of going unconscious, she wondered vaguely if she was dying from hypothermia but couldn't bring herself to care.

Arthas still made no move to rescue her and eventually the world went dark.

Jaina slowly came to as her body warmed, leaving behind the deep sleep she'd been. Rolling her body slightly, she tried to raise a hand to her aching eyes only to find her hands were chained above her head. It quickly became apparent that she was lying on a saronite table, stretched out with her hands and feet bound. Trying to get oriented she blinked several times and with a groan turned her head to study her surroundings.

The vault was a large area constructed of black saronite with a series of eight wicked-looking pillars running down the center. Chandeliers made of dragon skulls hung menacingly between the aisles, dark magic setting them alight with a bluish glow. Strange runes of some sort ran down the sides of each pillar, and candelabras holding numerous candles were situated around the place, their dim light casting small shadows over the already darkened room. At the end of the pillars hung a large ritualistic banner that nearly hid a hideous circular seal of the Scourge on the wall behind it; settled around the banner were two mysterious spiked tan obelisks covered in the same mysterious runic symbols as the pillars.

A small fire flickered red sparks of light about against one wall. A metal tray had been fitted on top of this fire and a variety of torture instruments such as pokers, saws, and knives lay upon it, heating as they awaited use. Next to it stood a thick iron chair with spikes protruding from the back, arms, and seat. A sort of coffin with doors in the front was propped up against the right wall. Several poles with chains hanging from them were set directly horizontal to Jaina's table in the middle. A rack was situated to the back left.

She did not know it but this place was the Lich King's personal torture chamber, deep within the heart of the citadel.

The Lich King had been studying the ritualistic banner with his back turned to her; at the sound of her moving about he turned and went to her side. He wasn't planning to delve too deep into torture with her to begin with - mainly he wanted to strike some fear into her heart at the sight of the chamber and to revel in her horror, fright which he could already feel radiating off of her body. How gratifying it was to see the treacherous leader of Theramore reduced to a squirming animal before his very eyes!

At that moment Jaina spoke up, her voice a mere whisper. "Where am I?"

"Right where I want you." And he reached slowly for her face, cupping her chin in his hand and lifting it so that her eyes met his. His head leaned forward, far too close to hers for comfort.

"You bastard!" She turned her head away with all her might. "Get your filthy hands off of me! You aren't worthy of my –"

"Careful, Jaina. As I've warned you before, you might say something you'll regret." He nearly crushed her jaw and then, without warning, released her as she cried out in pain. "You might be the ever-so mighty leader of Theramore to the outside world but here you are nothing. Although I think deep inside you like it better here already. Here you have no responsibilities, no muck-ridden colony to oversee, and we both know you would rather be without them."

"My duties are mine whether I wanted them or not. I had no choice! No, I never desired power but I had to save those people from their deaths before it was too late! I had to save them from _you_."

"And so you did. But ultimately it will all have been in vain as Theramore will fall alongside the entire continent when I release the newest plague strain upon Kalimdor." One of his hands clenched in anticipation. "There will be no survivors."

Her eyes widened.

"Don't concern yourself with that, however," he said with that cruel smile of his. "Plenty of things must be done before that happens. I have numerous armies to crush, champions to corrupt… and a traitor to punish."

With a grin he stroked her nose almost affectionately and, turning to someone or something Jaina could not see, he stated, "We begin."

"Finally awake is she? Good," boomed a sinister voice unfamiliar to her. Jerking her head to the left, Jaina saw a burly orc death knight approaching her table. He looked familiar somehow but she was certain she'd never met him before…

Arthas looked upon the newcomer with approval. This newest initiate had proven successful at handling his newfound powers and was truly the most powerful death knight created by the Lich King thus far; rather surprising as he'd been a simple whelp of an orcling in life, barely out of adolescence when he'd been struck down by Frostmourne at the Wrathgate. Perhaps he'd do well in _softening up_ Jaina. At the very least she would recognize him and despair.

"Yes, I know you," the death knight muttered, eyeing the sorceress. Disgust filled him as well as glee. "You're the wretched human woman who tries so hard to promote peace between the Alliance and Horde. I tell you now that it will never happen." A toothy grin crossed his too-pale face. "There will always be war despite your little tryst with the Warchief."

"My _what_?" she gasped, horrified that this strange orc knew. "That is not true! The Warchief and I are simply friends, nothing more!"

Arthas found himself frowning at the turn in conversation although he wasn't altogether sure why.

"Don't bother denying it. The entire continent knows of your 'secret' meetings in the Barrens with him. My father grudgingly admired you, Proudmoore, but he knew something else was going on between you and the Warchief. Something besides simple peace planning. And that did not sit well with him. Nor would it sit well with the rest of the Horde… or the Alliance for that matter."

Jaina knew now who he was. "You're Saurfang's son!" she muttered, staring at him in disbelief. "You fell at the Wrathgate!" With a glare she looked in the Lich King's direction. "And _he_ raised you as a death knight. By the Light –"

"My new master has granted me more power than I could ever imagine."

"He has damned you! What would your father think if he saw you now?"

"That old fool! A true believer in the power of the ultimately weak Horde!" The orc shook his head and laughed. "He will see soon enough that I am on the winning side of this war. And so shall you." He regarded Jaina with an air of superiority. "My lord, where shall I begin?"

"We'll start with the vice."

Deathbringer Saurfang turned away, and the sounds of rummaging, the clanking of metal, and other ominous noises filled the sorceress' ears as he delved into his hideous arsenal. Her heart began to beat loudly in her chest and she tugged at her restraints.

Enjoying the terrified energy emanating from the woman, the Lich King leaned over her and to her horror cupped one of her heaving breasts in his hand.

"Tell me, my lovely Jaina," he said as he roughly kneaded the soft flesh, "what _were_ you doing out there all alone in the Howling Fjord?"

Jaina writhed against the table, wishing she could teleport and escape his grasp. "I already told you: I was on vacation."

"I think you can be more specific than that." He grinned, thoroughly taking pleasure in the long unfelt texture of her chest.

Deathbringer Saurfang reappeared at the base of the table. With a grunt he dropped an open case of metal between her chained feet and seized her right foot with his large hand, unchaining it before roughly encasing it in the vice. Using two screws on either side he tightened the metal around her foot just so it barely touched.

She lifted her head and gasped, trying to jerk her foot away.

"For the Light's sake, take it off!" she cried.

"Answer the question," growled the Lich King. With one last hard squeeze he released her breast.

"I was on vacation -"

In no mood for her avoidance, Arthas frowned. "Begin," he ordered the death knight.

The orc turned the screws and the metal compressed around her foot as Jaina's eyes widened and her breaths grew shallow. The pressure grew to an uncomfortable degree. Did they intend to crush her foot? The thought made her sick.

The sorceress was no trained SI:7 agent and unable to resist pleading. "Don't! Please! What do you want to know?"

"Why were you in the Howling Fjord, Jaina?"

She understood that he wanted specifics and answered quickly, "Rhonin thought it would be a good idea for me to relax."

The Lich King nodded but ordered the torture to continue anyway. "Turn it again."

The screws were turned and the vice pinched her foot painfully.

"I will answer anything! Why do you torture me still?" she cried.

He ignored her. Unknown to Jaina, the Lich King was torturing her for the sake of torture, not to get answers to questions.

"Rhonin," he muttered. "What an annoying little gnat. But his time too shall come; he shall be a powerful agent of the Scourge just as you will be. But what had you so upset that he would have you abandon your duties and head off anonymously into the wilderness?"

She closed her eyes and sighed, her mind flashing back to another day:

"_How? How could we have missed this until now?"_

"_The summons sounded dire, Jaina. What's happened?"_

"_Brann Bronzebeard's forces assaulted the gates of Ulduar. They battled the iron lords and their cursed minions. He- he won't stop talking about this… presence he felt, permeating the great walls, stirring in their minds… chilling their blood. He said the horror that the Titans imprisoned so long ago, Yogg-Saron, has awakened."_

"_What! What are _they_ doing here?"_

"_I thought I smelled the stench of Alliance pigs!"_

"_You want my blood? Come then, dog!"_

"_We have all lost a great deal in this conflict! But we stand to lose everything if we do not stop fighting and work together!"_

"_At the Wrathgate the Horde's partnership killed more of our men than the Scourge! I'm done with your Horde! May this Death god take you all."_

"_The Old God is laughing… toying with us…"_

The vice quickly grew tighter and she felt her big toenail beginning to crack as her foot folded into itself.

"Yogg-Saron! Ulduar!" she shrieked, jerking herself as upright as she could and desperately attempting to free her foot with no success. "Surely you know by now about the situation there! The Explorer's League opened a door that should have remained shut! It's an Old God! Nothing could wreck more havoc on this world! I think I had every right to be worried!"

Arthas was not impressed. "You've faced the Burning Legion and countless other dangers. I hardly believe the presence of an Old God would deter you from your duties. After all, the Kirin Tor, not the Alliance, is handling the situation. So what else?" he pried. His gauntleted hand stroked her hand gently, a stark contrast from the pain being inflicted upon her poor foot. "Tell me."

"Why are you so interested in _me_? Shouldn't you be questioning me about the plans of the Alliance? What I know of the Argent Crusade?"

"Turn it again."

The vice tightened and small cracking noises were heard from the foot encase within.

Jaina writhed in agony. No longer would she hold back. "There was a briefing! King Wrynn… the Warchief… Garrosh Hellscream came to blows with the king! I could not stop the Horde emissaries from coming inside before Wrynn left! The Horde and Alliance will never accomplish anything against Ulduar, against YOU, if they don't work together! And if only I had stopped Thrall and Garrosh from coming in so soon, if only I had delayed them, perhaps –" She collapsed, tears seeping out of her eyes as the screws were turned again, leaving her in unbearable agony. The bones in her foot were close to being crushed.

"Perhaps Varian Wrynn would put aside his hatred and join forces with the Horde?" Arthas guessed with a grin. "And the Orcs would agree to a truce?" He laughed. "Jaina, I should have known. You and your unfounded guilt. Always did dwell on things that were out of your control, haven't you? Ever since that day in Stratholme."

"How did you know?" she whimpered, on the verge of falling unconscious again. Her head swam and she felt as though she was going to be sick to her stomach.

"I didn't. Now I do," the Lich King chuckled. "How is Varian Wrynn these days anyway? I haven't seen him in years. Not since…" he trailed off. _Not since my induction into the Silver Hand_. The memory stung and it angered him.

"Turn it again," he demanded of Saurfang, eager for a distraction from the memory. Jaina's screams would be just the thing.

"What did I say – NO!" Jaina shrieked as the bones in her foot were crushed within the metal. Her face went white and her eyes rolled into the back of her head as her body, unwilling to withstand the pain any longer, shut down for the second time that day.

"Shall I put in the other foot, master?"

"That is enough. Release her foot and leave us, Deathbringer."

Deathbringer Saurfang bowed his head and obediently extracted Jaina's mangled foot from the metal casing before he turned and exited the vault. Arthas used his dark powers to reconstruct her broken foot while Jaina lay unconscious.

The sorceress was out for a good half of a minute. As she slowly came back to reality, she did not remember where she was and felt extremely calm despite the terrible throbbing in her foot. Her head lolled about on the table and for the moment she was content just where she was.

With a wave of the Lich King's hand the chains around Jaina's wrists and ankles unlatched. She groaned and lifted a hand to her face, unwilling to move any more than was needed. The memory of her ordeal returned yet the strange calmness remained.

Sensing that Arthas was still near, she murmured, "I answered all of your questions. Why did you hurt me anyway?"

"Pain for pain, Jaina."

Remembering his vendetta against her, she moaned. "I will bear anything you throw at me."

"You are weak, _my love_, helpless and at my mercy. You will break even more quickly than the others have."

"I will not go down without a fight, Arthas."

"I am ultimately doing what is best for you. Did you know that? I am freeing you from the pressures that have been unwittingly thrust upon you these past eight years. You will be grateful."

His familiar smile returned and he leaned over her; the temptation to touch her, to taste her again was suddenly more than he could bear.

Still recovering from her swoon, Jaina didn't even see it coming.

The kiss was swift and brutal. The human warmth of her lips released long repressed memories that rushed back to him in a torrent. Not for a moment for those seven long years on the Frozen Throne had he remembered the particulars of their love-making, his hatred alone for her ruling him, but as his cold lips met hers a memory stirred, and he remembered making love to her the night before Stratholme. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, partially lifting her off of the table.

Despite his power being more ecstasy than any human sexual activity, he wasn't far enough gone not to enjoy holding another being close. There was something… gratifying about it. Again he realized how dangerous such feelings were to his position... but since she was completely under his control now they were of no consequence.

Meanwhile Jaina was on the verge of throwing up. His stench was that of thousands of rotting corpses, his lips as cold and dead as the armor he wore. And yet a small part of her rejoiced in the familiar touch of his broad lips; this was something she'd longed years for despite the disgusting differences, and as soon as this realization hit the surface the woman hated herself for such a weakness.

Arthas chuckled against her hair. "Missed this, have you?" he inquired, his lips brushing her forehead. _This_ was even more satisfying than listening to her tortured screams, he decided, and continued to kiss her face with a great passion.

She could not answer. Hatred and seething surged within her body along with a longing for what once was and what could never be again.

Sliding an arm under her legs, the Lich King lifted her roughly.

"You've earned a place deep within my inner sanctum after what you pulled today," he said with a grin. "You should be honored."

Horrified, Jaina stared at him. Being in the dungeons was bad enough but now he was taking her to his private quarters? How would she even fathom escaping from there? Pain shot through her foot as she pondered this and she was brought back to reality, writhing and hissing from the horrible sensation.

He watched her closely. "Your foot has been healed."

"It doesn't feel like it's been healed!" she spat.

"My powers don't work the same as your precious Light. The bones of your foot have been… rebuilt rather than healed."

That reminded Jaina of something she had been meaning to ask since the day she was captured. Moving the fingers of her left hand along the ridge of stitched skin on her right forearm – the result of being attacked by the val'kyr at Valgarde – she looked up at him and asked, "Why didn't you have this healed fully? I know the bone was severed and remade but why the stitching?"

"It will scar: a reminder to you that those who oppose the Lich King will not come out unscathed," he said smugly.

Jaina fumed as he carried her through several winding corridors, each darker than the last, lit only by chandeliers of necromantic blue magic. Her mind tried to keep track of the route they took but in the end it was too long and tiring to do so, and she didn't even know where they were to begin with.

Eventually they entered a room that shocked Jaina to the very core, and she gasped, her eyes wide. It was a twisted mockery of the Imperial Chamber of Lordaeron, a beautiful room with lovely draperies and chandeliers in which King Terenas had received his most important visitors; she had known it well before the Scourge destroyed the city. In contrast this version was dark and hideous with a spiked saronite throne upon the platform in the back center. It was truly a terrible sight and she had no words.

Arthas waved a hand and one of the small alcoves against the wall of the throne room creaked open, revealing a small corridor that he took Jaina through. Not far down was a small room, as dark and gloomy as the others had been save for a few candles on the floor, and Jaina looked skeptically around it as she was hauled inside. She had been expecting some luxurious room down in his so-called private chambers but this vault was completely bare of any furnishings except for a pile of dirty furs that had been dumped unceremoniously on the ground. Then again Arthas and his minions had no use for comfortable quarters or sleep so why would any of his rooms have furnishings?

"This is where you will be kept from now on," Arthas said. "Your powers might be under control but I am not going to take any risks with you; in fact I should have thrown you down here the moment I captured you. One of the leaders of the Cult of the Damned will send some cultists down here to look after you shortly."

He studied her bloodied robes and bruised, cut skin, and swollen foot with satisfaction before bending down and giving her one last icy kiss on the forehead that made the sorceress cringe. Then he deposited his prize onto the cold floor and she winced as her throbbing foot hit the ground despite her care.

"I will see you again shortly, _my lady_. I suggest you prepare yourself for more torture – Deathbringer Saurfang is dying to get his hands on you again." And he turned and left without ceremony, the door slamming shut behind him.

Shivering, she dragged herself to the pile of furs and wrapped them around her to stave off the horrible cold. The temperature was even lower down here than it had been in the dungeons although not as cold, thank the Light, as it had been outside, and she had no frost wards to help keep her warm.

The threat of more torture sickened her but it was his touch and kisses that haunted her the most. They'd been unwelcome, disgusting… yet surprisingly welcome to her affection-starved body. She trembled. He had tortured and maimed her for Light's sake! She hated him, wanted him dead! He was the biggest threat the world had ever known and she was obligated to protect Azeroth from him. The leader of Theramore should _not_ be feeling such things about the leader of the Scourge..

But what about _Jaina _feeling such things about _Arthas_? It was truly the real Arthas, she understood for certain now, in that power-infused, dark body of his, and to her despair she remembered how she had always loved him despite the dreadful things he'd done.

Could, perhaps, she love him _still_?


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** Everything in this story belongs to Blizzard Entertainment.

Here's the next chapter. I did recover quite a few chapters from Wildheart Fanfiction but I am still doing a major revamp on this story. This chapter is an example; it has old content as well as new stuff. I hope everyone enjoys it. There is dialogue taken from the game in this chapter but, in case you haven't played WotLK, it shouldn't be spoilerific.

**The Shadows Grow Longer**

Chapter 11

As the Lich King had promised, several living members of the Cult of the Damned had arrived shortly after his departure to tend to her wounds and feed her. Jaina was too tired to struggle and simply sat back and let them work as they stabilized her foot and cleaned her cuts. While they worked she daydreamed.

_She had suddenly missed the ocean. It was rather odd, for the sea was not something she'd thought much about during the years at Dalaran; ultimately it was in her blood, however, and for the past few days she'd truly missed it. _

_It was the fall she'd been granted permission to stay with Lordaeron's royal family. The fall she found herself sitting in with Arthas and King Terenas as they listened to the people's petitions. The fall she had found herself being treated more as a member of the royal family than as a friend. The fall she had begun to feel frightened and unsure of herself and her duties. _

_Confiding her longing to Arthas, he had hastily arranged for a quiet trip to Southshore where the ocean was still warm. They went with only a few guards and, upon arriving, separated from their escort despite the men's protests and went incognito into the inn and about the town._

_The first night there, they sat together just off the town dock. Jaina was relieved by the salty smell and endless gentle waves of the sea. For a moment she forgot who she was and her duties in both Dalaran and Lordaeron, just content to lean against her fiancé and let the ocean air caress her face. _

"_Do you ever wish you weren't born a prince?" she asked Arthas._

"_Of course. I think all royalty think such things sometimes." He turned to her and playfully tugged at a lock of her hair. "But if I hadn't been born a prince, I would have never met you."_

"_Maybe we would have met as commoners." She sighed. "Then we could have led normal lives together, never worrying about leading nations."_

"_Is that what this is all about? You've been acting strangely for the past few days. You've never missed the ocean. You've never questioned your position in life. Why, if you weren't royalty you probably would have never been allowed to study under Antonidas in Dalaran and you love it, don't you?"_

"_Of course I do, more than almost anything else!" _

_And so she did. But something was bothering her. Something about her impending marriage to Arthas. The thought of being a queen. Would she be able to continue her studies in Dalaran? _

_Arthas and other assured her that she would but she remained skeptical. Queens stayed with their husbands and supported them; they did not live in another city and pursue a career in magic!_

_He took her head in his hands and touched his forehead to hers. "Tell me, Jaina. What's really wrong?"_

"_I am afraid of being a queen, Arthas. I never really thought about it before now. It seems so… weighty compared to just being a mage." She looked up at him. "Don't you ever worry about being king?"_

"_I try not to think about it, honestly. No use in getting worked up over something that probably won't happen for years. I mean, I want to learn all of the things I will need to know when I AM king but at the same time I want to enjoy life being a prince since it won't last forever."_

_Jaina wondered how he managed to remain so carefree despite the topic. Would he become more stoic with age? She hoped not. His lighthearted attitude was one of the things she loved about him and needed in a potential husband least she lose herself in the rigorousness of her studies and other duties._

"_Like I said, it probably won't happen for years." His voice went flat as a new thought came to mind. "I thought you were excited about getting married." "You aren't having second thoughts, are you?"_

_She shook her head. _

"_No," she reassured him. "Never." _

_Confidence surged through her as she studied her lover's face. She could handle this. She was being silly. She could be a queen and a mage at the same time. As for being queen, Arthas would always be there with her – at this point she couldn't imagine the rest of her life without him – so it wouldn't be as though she would be leading a nation on her own. That thought terrified her._

_Arthas smiled. "Relax. You wanted to see the ocean; aren't you happy?"_

"_Yes, very." She leaned in and kissed his nose. "Thank you for bringing me here."_

_He stretched and unbuttoned his shirt. "You didn't come all this way just to look at it, did you?"_

_Jaina frowned. It was dark out, the dim lights of the inn flickering on the small waves. "Now?" she whispered._

"_Why not?"_

"_Well, I guess we could. I'll need to go back to the inn to get my – Arthas Menethil, what in the name of the Light are you doing?"_

"_Going swimming."Arthas had removed his pants and was busy pulling off his underwear. _

_Her eyes widened. "Naked? Arthas, it's not proper! And we are too close to town!"_

_His familiar form darkened by shadows, he stood in front of her in all of his naked glory. "Come on, Jaina. Live a little." And he charged into the surf with a loud splash._

"_Get back here!" Jaina was mortified. What if someone saw?_

_A blast of water hit her square in the face. Shaking her drenched clothing, Jaina scowled at the dark form in the water before her. Indignant, she turned to head back to the inn; casting one last glance over her shoulder she saw Arthas rapidly coming after her._

"_Don't you dare!" she whispered furiously. But he caught her arm and swung her into the sea just as the protest died on her lips; Jaina hit the water with a tremendous splash and it swarmed into her nose and mouth. Sputtering and coughing, she swam to the surface._

"_Jaina? I didn't hurt you, did I?"_

"_No. But I'm about to hurt YOU." With all of her might Jaina swung her arms, sending water flying towards him in a torrent. A thrill ran through her and, while Arthas coughed and sent several half-hearted splashes her way, she swam back to the shallow water and unfastened her dress, jerking it off wildly and throwing it onto the beach. Her undergarments followed as her adventurous side emerged from its long slumber. She threw herself at him, shrieking with delight._

_They engaged in a short splash war before Arthas, wiping water from his eyes, called a truce. Jaina complied and swam over to him, flinging her arms around his neck and wrapping her legs around his waist. Cautiously she looked over towards the dock and was relieved to find that no one had shown up there despite the noise. _

'_And once again he manages to make me feel truly alive,' she thought as he wrapped his arms around her back and carried her farther out into the sea._

"_See? Was that really so hard?" he whispered._

_Jaina grinned and nuzzled his neck, enjoying the way her breasts felt against his chest. "Maybe a little," she whispered back. "Still, I just couldn't deny you, could I?" Suddenly she shivered and couldn't refrain from asking, "Do you love me, Arthas?" _

"_What a question, Jaina," he sighed, inclining his head to kiss her. "You know the answer. I love you. And I will always be with you. Always."_

_That night they made love for several hours in the inn with him teasing her as he kissed – _

Jaina was abruptly pulled from the pleasant memory.

_That damn kiss_, she thought, ashamed. No matter how hard she tried to forget, no matter how many things she thought of instead, that miserable kiss he'd given her just hours before kept invading her mind. It had been so cold and unforgiving, certainly not the tender, loving kisses she'd been used to from him… but was it a sign he still harbored some sort of affection towards her? Was there a way to turn him back to the Light if he did?

Her brow furrowed and she shook her head and sighed. From what she'd seen there was no way to get him back – Arthas was simply too far gone. And he would eventually kill her.

She fell into a stupor, simply wrapping herself in her furs, wondering how this would all end.

Falric found her in this state after an amount of time she wouldn't determine. It could have been hours or it could have been days; she had no way to tell.

The death knight unsealed the door to her prison and stomped inside.

"The Master demands your presence," he snorted, disgusted by the pathetic mortal before him.

Unsteadily Jaina rose from the floor, nearly tripping over the purple and black cultist robe she had been forced to change into as she tested her wounded foot, and limped over to the smirking Falric.

* * *

The Lich King had been tempted to decimate the entirety of the Argent Crusade in the Valley of Echoes. Tempted greatly but not so much as to give the order; that was not his plan. Let them push through and take Scourgeholme and Sindragosa's Fall. Most of the Nerubians had been ordered to fall back, tunneling back to their underground Empire, leaving only a few of the spider-like creatures and several frost wyrms as well as reanimated Crusaders for adventurers to battle there.

Let them think he struck without care or caution, let them think they caught him off guard. He would show them otherwise soon enough.

Kel'Thuzad had all but taken over Wintergarde Keep with his forces from Naxxramas, a huge blow to the Alliance. The forces of both the Horde and Alliance were both scattered, driven by the corrupted worgen, in the Grizzly Hills. Warsong Hold in the Borean Tundra was under constant siege by the Nerubians, keeping the Horde occupied there.

Other than the Skybreaker and Orgrim's Hammer, neither faction held a solid presence in Icecrown, obviously not due to the lack of military resources. It was clear enough why both the Alliance and Horde chose to circle the air outside of even the great Gates, simply picking off mindless Scourge here and there or attempting to send spies into the Citadel instead of joining together in a great assault along with the Argent Crusade and the Knights of the Ebon Blade, a move that most leaders in that situation would make.

_How amusing that the Alliance and Horde still fight each other instead of helping the Argent Crusade,_ he thought with glee. Arthas recalled Varian Wrynn as a young boy standing on the castle walls as Doomhammer was paraded in chains through the capital of Lordaeron and the look of pure hatred on the prince's face. Varian Wrynn must still hate the orcs as much as he remembered, and apparently the orcs, despite their benevolent leader, hated him.

_Their benevolent leader…_ _Thrall_. The same orc slave he'd watch as a teenager in the gladiatorial pit at Durnholde Keep. _How ironic,_ he thought with a chuckle. The 'mighty' Thrall would be a slave again soon enough – _his _slave along with Varian Wrynn. The two would undoubtedly fight alongside each other at last as two of his Death Knight Champions.

Suddenly he recalled a comment made by Deathbringer Saurfang as they were torturing Jaina_: There will always be war despite your little tryst with the Warchief._

_Ah yes. _The Lich King remembered sensing the true affection between the Warchief and Proudmoore during his years of dreaming. How tragic their bids for peace and ultimately their little friendship would be ruined. He sneered.

Saurfang had called their friendship a 'tryst' but he thought nothing more of it as Jaina, despite her pathetic attempts to deny that she harbored no feelings for Arthas Menethil, clearly did hold some sort of feeling for the former prince of Lordaeron. Of course she did. They shared too much together during his mortal life for her not to! He alone understood her fully.

At eighteen she'd even been eager to marry, and at twenty two it was clear she retained her feelings despite the earlier break up. Idly he remembered her even speaking about the possibility of having children together.

_Yes, the children will almost certainly be blond, _she'd said, laughing happily at the Winter Veil Ball. _There's no reason to think we won't be able to have children._

A grin spread across his wrinkled face. Yet another memory to break her with. He would wear her down sooner rather than later – her emotions were clearly wearing on her already. Such a weak, malleable creature. And yet there was something appealing about her mortality, her conflict inside. Soon she would need him. She would want him more than she already did. In her kiss he sensed her longing and thought of her torment and guilt in losing him over the past seven years with great satisfaction.

No pathetic orc could usurp her yearning, her love for him.

Still, his curiosity got the better of him, and he called for Deathbringer Saurfang, ordering the undead orc to tell everything he knew of the Warchief of the Horde's relationship with Jaina.

"They met secretly in the Barrens often – everyone in Orgrimmar knows," the Deathbringer had rumbled. "Thrall's private zeppelin headed off to the same butte frequently and it has been rumored that he meet with Proudmoore there. But I know it is more than rumor."

He looked to the Lich King to see if he'd said too much and was surprised when he was given a nod to continue.

"Several Kor'kron elites used to always accompanied Thrall, on the zeppelin at least. They confided their fears to my father when they discovered what was going on, and he confronted Thrall. The Warchief was reluctant to say his meetings with _her _were anything more than simple peace conferences, but you could practically smell her on him; I was there. My... father knew better too. He once warned Thrall of the dangers of having a relationship with a human female, especially this one. And the Warchief didn't deny it. He seemed torn but ultimately brushed it off and said his duty would always be to his people. Yet he still continued to meet her unguarded. It is even said that if Proudmoore's city ever rose up against her that she has an escape pact with the Warchief; that she would escape to Durotar and live among the orcs. That is all I know, my master."

"You are dismissed."

The death knight bowed and departed while Arthas mused on what Saurfang's son had said.

Most of it had to be rumor, he was sure of this. Jaina Proudmoore – the Jaina _he'd _know – had felt pity for the orcs but that hardly meant she would ever dream of having romantic feelings for one. After all orcs were brutish, ugly creatures that a human lady of her stature would surely be disgusted by them, tentative allies or not.

Yet in the back of his mind, a nagging feeling remained when it came to Thrall and Jaina.

Shrugging it off, the Lich King ordered Falric to bring Jaina to him. It was time to perform a particularly draining spell on her, a spell that often killed the one unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of it. He would have to be careful.

It irked him that he'd been so consumed with thoughts of vengeance and personal matters when Jaina, a high ranking member of the Alliance, could possibly have much to tell him in regards to the movement of the various factions around Northrend. She'd told him very little during their first torture session, and it had not been his intention to pry information out of her then.

Why not torture her until she gave up all the information she knew? Arthas knew better. Although fairly weak in body compared to the warriors and paladins who she often worked with, the mage was strong in mind, and it would take a lot to crack her. She might very well die under torture for that matter, and he did not want her dead. Yet.

So he opted for a mind probe instead.

* * *

The Lich King had not lied to Jaina when he said the Argent Crusade had been defeated at Scourgeholme. But he had not entirely been telling the whole story either.

While the Skybreaker and Orgrim's Hammer fought both the Scourge and each other, failing to gain a foothold, Tirion Fordring's ground troops moved into the Breach from the Valley of Echoes. The crusaders fought valiantly but in the end too many were lost. Without backup from the Alliance and Horde, the Argent Crusade found its own base under attack by frost wyrms and Nerubians; the surviving crusaders withdrew to defend the Argent Vanguard.

The Breach was reclaimed by the Nerubians and a blockade of webs was strewn across the sundered earth.

However then something happened that turned the tide of the battle – or at least saved the Argent Crusade from decimation.

Adventurers heard of the Vanguard's plight. They swarmed in droves to Icecrown, first rescuing as many living crusaders left alive as they could, and then reclaiming the Valley of Echoes using the massive cannons located upon the walls of the base. Nerubians and frost wyrms were crushed in the fray, leaving the Argent Vanguard shaken but not fallen.

The Breach was opened yet again, and Tirion Fordring enlisted the help of Highlord Darion Mograine and his death knights to prepare for another incursion into Scourgeholme.

As he sat upon Mirador, watching his crusaders repair the broken walls of the Argent Vanguard, Tirion Fordring thought of the adventurers he had sent to Father Gustav for further instruction on how to bless the souls of those crusaders who had been killed in the failed breach into Scourgeholme. They would be instructed to use holy water on the corpses of reanimated crusaders. It was the least that the Argent Crusade could do to save the souls of their fallen from the icy grasp of the Lich King.

Darion Mograine and several engineers were also at Father Gustav's little camp before the Breach, giving out instructions to the fighters.

A frown suddenly overtook Tirion's aging face.

Darion Mograine. The Ebon Watcher. Doubtless that _he _would be instructing the adventurers to act without mercy or regard to their own allies while assailing Scourgeholme for the second time.

Tirion was appalled by such recklessness, such dishonor, but the Knights of the Ebon Blade would not be turned to the principles of the Light. And the strength of the Light was the only way to win the battle against the Lich King.

He recalled speaking with Darion just after the first assault failed.

"The Lich King reacted swiftly to the breach. Faster than I anticipated," the old paladin mused, distressed at the loss of his fighters.

Darion Mograine, his face concealed by a hood, came up beside him.

"You are dealing with a being that holds within it the consciousness of the most cunning, intelligent, and ruthless indiviuals to ever live," the death knight said. He did not seem to share Tirion's pain over the loss of life during the failed attack. "The Lich King is unlike any foe you have ever faced, Highlord. Thought you bested him upon the holy ground of Light's Hope Chapel, you tread now upon his domain."

Tirion turned to the undead human, his face filled with frustration and sorrow.

"You cannot win. Not like this." Darion motioned towards the Breach that had been retaken by the Scourge.

Suddenly infuriated, Tirion rounded on Mograine.

"What would you have me do, Darion?" he found himself snarling in a very uncharacteristic manner. He already had a gut feeling in regards to the words with which Darion Mograine would respond. And he despised it.

Just as Fordring suspected, Darion didn't even bother looking at him.

"Nothing. There is nothing you can do while the Light binds you. It controls you wholly, shackling you to the ground with its virtues."

Damn that man!

The old paladin clamped a hand on the death knight's shoulder, partially turning him.

"Choose your words wisely, death knight," Tirion said with more restraint than before as he forced Darion to look at him. "You stand amidst the company of the devoted."

"Look upon the field, Highlord. The Lich King has halted your advance completely and won the upper hand! The breach you created was sealed with Nerubian webbing almost as quickly as it was opened. Your soldiers are being used as living shields to stave off artillery fire in the Valley of Echoes, allowing the forces of the Lich King to assault your base without impediment. The Lich King knows your boundaries, Highlord. He knows that you will not fire on your own men. Do you not understand? He has no boundaries. No rules to abide."

"We will do this with honor, Darion. We will not sink to the levels of the Scourge to be victorious! To do so would make us no better than the monster that we fight to destroy!"

"... then you have lost, Highlord." And with that the Ebon Watcher stalked away, leaving the older man to deal with the incoming wounded.

_Lost? Ha! _Tirion shook his head at the very thought. Darion Mograine was wrong. The Argent Crusade would win this battle _by the virtue of the Light_. The Light would not forsake them in their hour of need. It was unfortunate that the death knight could not understand this. And yet Tirion knew he needed the help of the Knights of the Ebon Blade – who else understood the tactics of the Scourge better than those who had formerly been under the Lich King's control themselves? As much as Darion's lack of faith frustrated him, the old paladin was not about to allow this advantage to slip away by berating the death knights about their lack of honor.

The sound of hoof beats caused him to turn as a dwarf riding a ram galloped through the Vanguard's front gate and up the hill to Tirion's position.

"Highlord, the Knights of the Ebon Blade 'ave purged Scourgeholme of its high priests... and the reanimated crusaders for the time being." Pain seeped through his heavy voice as the dwarf spoke those last words. "Highlord Mograine is sending adventurers after what he calls 'the lords of Scourgeholme' and wishes that I inform you the area will be secured should you wish to press an attack."

"And what of Father Gustav? Has he gathered the materials we shall require to sanctify Crusader's Pinnacle?"

"Workin' on it, m'lord."

"Very well. Thank you, crusader. May the Light go with you."

Turning his attention back to the construction on the walls of the Vanguard, Tirion ran his hands through Mirador's mane.

_So many casualties already, _he mused. _We shall win this war, no doubt. But at the cost of how many lives? How many children will be orphaned because their mother or father doesn't come home from this frozen wasteland? Children- _

_Taelan. His boy... the child he had failed._

No, he couldn't let his mind go there. Not now. There were far more important things to worry about now.

Once the Argent Crusade and Knights of the Ebon Blade safely breached Crusader's Pinnacle as well as Sindragosa's Fall as planned, the construction of the tournament would begin. Invitations would be sent to the leaders of both the Horde and the Alliance, of course, to come and show their support for the fighters. The actual competition would be held. And then and only then could the assault on Icecrown Citadel begin. Only the strongest fighters would be allowed near the place; those deemed too weak would only be decimated by the Lich King's forces and raised into undeath for his vile army.

Yet this seemed an eternity away. Tirion did not have an eternity. The Lich King did. This was something Fordring was going to have to work around, and stalling the Scourge while the Argent Tournament took place was not going to be simple.

He sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Highlord?" A voice came from his left. A messenger from Stormwind from the looks of her.

"Yes, my lady?"

"King Wrynn is frustrated with Rhonin and the Kirin Tor and refuses to cooperate with their efforts to rescue Lady Proudmoore any longer. He sends you his regards and asks that you do everything in your power to aid the Alliance in bringing her safely home."

_Not this again._

"My lady, you tell the king that I want nothing more than Jaina Proudmoore's safe return," Tirion said sternly. "However King Wrynn must understand that she is most likely inside of Icecrown Citadel, and none of our forces, not the Argent Crusade, not the Knights of the Ebon Blade, and certainly not the Alliance, are ready to even _think _of stepping foot upon its grounds until the best of us are weeded out. I will not waste lives if I can help it. Things will proceed according to plan, and unfortunately Lady Proudmoore will have to wait. I pray every day that the Light is with her. But any rescue mission at this point would be a fool's errand. I know King Wrynn. I know he will be stepping up SI:7 involvement in infiltrating the Cult of the Damned for information and I encourage him to do so. However any real military involvement will end in massive loss of life, and the Lich King's army will only grow because of it. Remind him of that."

"Very well." The messanger sounded irritated. "Thank you, Highlord."

"Light be with you, my lady."

The woman bowed curtly and departed.

Tirion groaned inwardly. Not only was he worried for Jaina's safety but he was worried she wouldn't be strong enough to withhold information about the Argent Crusade's plans from the Lich King. And the last thing he wanted was a Scourge invasion of the coming tournament, something Jaina Proudmoore had surely been briefed about during her time in Dalaran. He too desperately wished there was some miraculous way she could be rescued but it just wasn't practical. In all likelihood the woman was murdered and raised into undeath by now.

The thought pained the old paladin but why would the Lich King keep her alive? Unless there was some part of Arthas Menethil left inside that body that still somewhat cared for the girl, or was at least possessive of her alive in some way, Jaina Proudmoore was doomed.

_May the Light bless you, Lady Proudmoore, _his lips whispered in a silent prayer. _May you be at peace before the end._


End file.
